


Club Called Heaven

by BitchtearsandButtsecks (HandbagMurder)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Angst, Australian!Jake, Blossoming Romance, Confused Romances, Drama, Family Issues, Human Names for Trolls, Humanstuck, Humor, I'm being a little premature with some of these tags I think, M/M, Maybe I should just add more later, Modern Western AU, Mystery, Request For a Stranger idek, Romantic Friendship, Sexual Tension, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Subtle Undertones of Cousin Fancying and Other Dubious Crushes, broship, cross-dressing, human trolls
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-06
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 07:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 70,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/452783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HandbagMurder/pseuds/BitchtearsandButtsecks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jake English moves to Texas after the death of his mother, he finds much more in the small town of Saint Luke's than he would have expected. Between the questionable Manor home of his Uncle, the strange people and (much stranger) Farm Boy working there, and the Mysterious and Stunning beauty-of-the-stage with whom he finds himself infatuated, Jake can only cross his heart and pray for the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My name is Bex and I'm a moderately decent Fanfic writer who sometimes struggles with inferiority especially when comparing herself to others and their work. Mostly, i write to cater to the masses in the hopes that they might love me, and it isn't often i find a prompt or inspiration that i can really see myself as enjoying, and that is precisely why i took up this project, a little fic prompt called 'CLUB HEAVEN' for http://thisiswhatbrothersdo.tumblr.com/ (dudes copy and paste the link but if anyone knows how to hyperlink things that would be GREAT please share your knowledge with me glory glory), which i personally think is fun and want to persue for my own satisfaction. of course, in doing so i hope too that i can satisfy the original creator of the prompt, after all it was so wonderful and adorable that it motivated me to write this to start with! thank you for allowing me to fill this prompt and i sincerely hope that it is SOMEWHAT what you were looking for. <3  
> it is a work in progress.

There is a certain quality, pertaining to the precise scent of the breeze and the exact colour of the stirring grass, which eludes description in the brace of summer. It is easy to throw a word out and hope that it draws close, words such as ‘warm’ and ‘bright’, but on doing so one must remember that not everywhere is ‘warm’ the same, and not everywhere is ‘bright’ really bright at all. This inexactness is what makes it harder still to define the nature of a Texan summer, with heat that toasts your bones but does not weary, and the endless chorusing of crickets, which eventually fade to insignificance as one grows accustomed to their songs. For example, the arid, red December summer to which Jake English was habituated could not have been further from the aforementioned Texan summer, yet he found that it was this difference alone that kept him occupied his first week in his new home. In all honesty the lushness of the season enchanted him, and as anyone who has seen and experienced a southern American summer is apt to know, this in its own right was an irony of incalculable scale. Texan summers were perhaps some of the driest, most unpleasant bastards known to man, and this one was certainly of no exception.

All the same, it was early each morning that Jake rose from his bed, a lovely iron framed duck down contraption which must have, he assumed, come with the nineteenth century villa his uncle happened to own, and pulled open his drapes. So early in fact, that he made quite a habit of taking the sunrise, and the vivid purples and oranges and golds it painted on the eternal fields of wheat and grass across the property. The horizon bowed at the very edges of the panorama, a slash broken by the silhouettes of electric generator windmills whose scale swamped even the highest skyscraper in Koojan. Or at least, it would if there were any skyscrapers in Koojan.

Such comparisons tended to be subjective.

Humming to himself Jake would turn away from the window, retrieve his boxershorts, cargo pants and a t-shirt from his floor, and move through into the ensuite, which was larger than his bedroom back in Canberra. He showered, thought that tomorrow he might want to take an early morning bath (but never did) and then towelled off and dressed in the glorious, crisp light which poured through his second story bathroom window, unheeding of the fact that should one outside, (perhaps on the drive or taking the dog for a run in the grass in front of the estate,) look up they would be witness to a special charity performance of the Jake English General Anatomy Show and probably think a little less of him than they had before. Woe, people in such a small, old fashioned community tended to be very conservative.

Freshly showered, Jake would thus make his way out of his room, down the admittedly charming period hallway and large sweeping stairs, into the dining hall, which really was a hall. His uncle certainly got what he paid for when he bought the old place. Breakfast, conversation, and a cup of tea later would find the man up to his elbows in soil, digging in the sprawling house garden and indulging in the feeling of the sun on his back, the scent of the grass and the sound of the birds diving excitedly in the trees. For the primary days of his stay, Jake thought that the warmth and verdance of the place could have entertained him forever, and well to look at the huge gardens to which he was obliged to tend, one would be inclined to agree that certainly, he was going to be a busy man for a while. Fighting vines, hoeing ground, heaving compost… it was all a very large job, overall.

The first Saturday and seventh morning of his stay, however, Jake was not met with the usual ‘uncle John looking ridiculous sitting alone at the sixteen-seater table reading the newspaper and eating a large helping of toast and jam’, but rather his cousin, eighteen year old Jane Crocker, at the far head dressed in a bathrobe and chatting on the phone to god knows who as she ate a bowl of fruit loops or some other whimsically named cereal. Jake hadn’t seen his cousin much, since his arrival, and tactlessly ignoring the fact that she was on the phone moved down the complete length of the table and drew a seat next to her. The housekeeper had set the breakfast stuff on this half of the ludicrously sized furnishing anyway, and with a cheerful grin, which displayed his prominent front teeth and dimple clearly, he reached for the bag of oats and steaming kettle.

“Morning, Miss Jane.”

Jane flushed, chattered something hurriedly into the mouthpiece, and hung up.

“Hey, Jake…”

Jane was, by nature, an unpretentious looking girl, with cropped black hair, pale blue eyes, and hips a little heavier than the average females. She had, like her father, a slight and rabbitish overbite, and she sunk this into her lower lip as she watched Jake mix himself up some porridge and set the stuff back on the bare wood of the table. She quickly remedied this faux pas, knowing she would be severely reprimanded if there were to eventuate any rings on her fathers ‘hilariously excessive’ table, by replacing the hot jug on the cloth heat mat next to the sugar bowl.

“Oh, right oh. I forgot about that.” Jake scratched his nose and realised he had left his glasses on the bedside table again. “Oh damnit. I forgot my specs and all.” He sighed and eyed the array of foodstuffs on the table, contemplating which to embellish his porridge with. He decided on golden syrup.

“No school today then?”

The question was redundant; both knew that even in Texas, school was closed on Saturday.

“Actually,” responded Jane, trying to not look helplessly embarrassed in front of her unfairly attractive older cousin, because honestly what girl hasn’t at least once thought that okay, maybe her cousin was a _little_ bit alright. “Summer started today.”

“Oh! Gosh that’s right.” Jake had clean forgotten that in this hemisphere summer was a June-July sort of an affair. It seemed all very ridiculous to him, but he shrugged it off and tried to pretend like he had at least had an inkling of what was the goings on. “Well have you got any youthful rendezvous planned for the break then? Hearts to break, adventures to embark on, that sort of thing…”

Jane studied him for a moment in puzzlement and shook her head.

“Um, no. I was going to go back to Seattle at the end of July though to see some friends.”

“Oh, nice.”

Jane and her father had moved to Texas when Jane was all of twelve. Jake supposed it was fair that she revisited her hometown every once in a while. Although if it was anything like his he sure didn’t know why she would want to. Jake smiled and took the can of golden syrup, popping it open with the end of his spoon and dipping the tool into the viscous goop.

“Any plans for while you are here though?”

This question earned a crinkled nose and shake of the head.

“No. have you seen this place? It Boresville. I’ve come to question the very idea that anything even remotely thrilling could ever happen around these parts.”

Jake shrugged. “It’s pretty here?”

But he supposed that after five years the novelty wore off.

She sighed. “Yeah, it’s okay…”

“Don’t you have friends in the town?” the town lying about two kilometres down the road and consisting of some old houses, a school, a few stores and restaurants, and a town hall.

“Yes, of course I do. I’m not socially retarded.”

Jake lifted his eyebrows and dolloped golden syrup into his breakfast business.

“Oh my, sorry ma’am, in all sincerity I didn’t intend to aggravate a nerve.”

Jane gave him a look, and he stuck out his tongue in teasing. Jake did like poking fun at his cousin, she was such a sweet girl but much too highly strung. He supposed this came from growing up trapped in a suburban setting, with little opportunity to fall over and break a knee, or be bitten by a horribly venomous snake and nearly die in hospital. Twice.  

In silence, the two embarked on their breakfast journey, Jane contemplating how odd her humiliatingly hot cousin was and asking herself again why the hell the boys in this town were of such low calibre she had began to entertain unhealthy incestuous crushes, Jake trying to plan what he should do with the day before him. As this was technically Jake’s first day off since arrival, the Sunday after he had arrived being spent in the local church because is there was one rule in the county it was church attendance was mandatory, and the week being filled with work in the gardens and such, he hadn’t yet had the opportunity to travel into town, or do any of the few things the area had on offer to do. He fancied he might like to go rodeoing, or perhaps rustle a few cattle, but after voicing these sentiments out loud and being told with little elaboration by Jane ‘no’, he found himself left at rather a blank. What to do, what to do… he couldn’t exactly go hiking in Texas, it seemed stupid even for him. Besides, there was no thrill in it if there was no chance of having ones personal belongings taken by a dingo.

“Perhaps I will take in the locality a little… does that sound like a better idea?” he scraped the last of his porridge out of his bowl and eyed the jug of orange juice still untouched on a doily there. “Of course, I could use some company, and if a pretty young lady might fancy coming too?”

Jane, who had managed to fade her blush and divert her thoughts from all questionable trains, was suddenly pink in the face with a vengeance.

“Oh, well yes I suppose I could-”

“Oh excellent!”

“But its just I have to see a friend today and I just…” she watched Jake’s face fall and honestly, couldn’t believe how a twenty fiver year old man (Wowza! What an awkward age gap) could look so much like a puppy. “… I suppose if you want to come too you’re welcome?”

Jake perked and took an empty glass from the stack by the orange juice, ready to pour himself a beverage.

“Sounds like a date, Miss Jane Crocker.”

Miss Jane Crocker wasn’t altogether sure what she had volunteered herself for.

 

✞

 

“You’re wearing that into the town?” Jane studied Jake critically when he walked into the foyer, dressed in jeans and a button up shirt slightly more tidy than the scrappy clothes he had pulled on that morning.

“Yeah?” he looked at himself, confused as to why she would even ask such a thing, to make sure there was nothing particularly distasteful perhaps on the breast of his top. His hat, a delightful cowboy one he had gotten from the airport when he arrived, slipped down and knocked his glasses. Jane, dressed in a simple sundress and straw hat, sighed and stepped forward to remove the not-even-part-way-entertaining headgear and set it on the end of the stair-rail.

“Rule of fitting in around here number whatever. No stupid hats.”

Jake, put out, targeted her own pretty handmade accessory, plucking it of her head and examining it.

“What? But this is a hat?”

“Yes… but look how normal it is compared to that.” She gestured to Jake’s, and admittedly it was pretty stupid looking, for one, the brim was probably about twice as large as it needed to be, for two, it had the words ‘Rodeo Rockstar’ stitched on the back.

Yes. Excessively stupid. What had Jake been thinking?

“Oh…” he responded, passing her her own hat back. “Right.”

He sighed, once again a victim of his own over-enthusiasm.

The two of then left the house, Jane taking her car keys from the bowl by the door, and Jake pulled the door closed in their wake, shutting the sunlight which leaked through huge windows inside the sparse entrance hall and being faced once more with the heat of the unfiltered sun. It was only eight thirty, perhaps, but already birds were about and crickets chirped in the grass as they crunched down the gravel drive to where Jane parked her old, beaten ford, fresh breeze stirring and reminding Jake of the mornings he had spent playing with sticks and stones in the old parish churchyard while his mother attended services. Gosh, Jake hadn’t thought about those times in years. Things were always much lusher and vibrant, within those low stone walls.

“Nice vehicle.” Jake smiled, knocking his fist on the dull hood and earning a low clunk from deep in the gut. “’scuse my silliness, but I thought you drove a brown pickup?”

“no.” Jane shrugged and stuck her key into the socket on the left side of the car. (Left? Oh my, this really was witchcraft…) “the pickup belongs to the farm boy. He comes here most mornings, works with the horses and out in the far fields where dad has his fruit trees.”

This was news to Jake, who since his arrival had been working around the back of the property, pruning roses and generally upkeeping the garden for what he had been told was soon to be a bed and breakfast opening in the west wing of the house.

“You have horses?”

“Yes.” Jane hopped into the car, reached over, and unlocked Jakes door. “Two or three. Racehorses dad sponsors. A friend of his owns them, but we keep them here because his friend doesn’t live here anymore and someone has to keep them safe. We get a cut of course.” She started the car and pulled her door closed with a heavy thump. “But it’s not much… they aren’t very good horses…”

“Oh, well.” Jake, being quite an able rider of all things from alpacas to what he one day aspired zebras, found his interest somewhat piqued. “That’s simply delightful. I do like riding. Perhaps I could go down there tomorrow afternoon and have a look?”

Jane shrugged.

“Talk to the farm hand. He’s nice enough but if I were you I wouldn’t wear that silly hat of yours. He doesn’t appreciate nonsense.”

Jake smiled sheepishly.

“I suppose, that sounds like a reasonable idea.”

And as the two made out of the property, on a long, snaking driveway through fields and over potholes, Jake both pondered precisely how little about the house and the town his uncle had neglected to inform him of, and made a mental note to locate this alleged farm hand and talk him into working a little down at the stables.

“You know, that strikes me as the sort of thing I would have been told before I came here.” Jake told Jane, rolling down his window to let in a breeze and resting his arm on the door. “The fact that the house has horses and such…”

Jane shrugged.

“There’s lots of stuff about the town and the house you probably haven’t been told… Dad tends to skim over the details like that.”

“Yeah…” Jake nodded. “I agree.”

This earned a small smile, and the two pulled off the drive and onto the main road which was dirt anyway, the right side lined with tall, probably ancient trees. They cast a shadow over the car as it slipped along the way, light flickering between the gnarled trunks.

“Well…” Jane proposed, watching Jake lift his hand to chew absently on his thumbnail as he thought. “Did you want me to tell you a little about the town and the house while we are about today? I know a little… not all, but I can give it a shot.”

Jake beamed at her, and dropped his hand.

“Oh that sounds simply smashing Jane! Please do.”

“Right…” she glanced in her rear view and scratched her upper lip. “I guess… I will start from the beginning then…

 

✞

 

“The house was built before the civil war, it’s been in pretty much the same family since then. Dad’s been trying to renovate it for ages so he can make it into some kind of tourist retreat or something but he’s just not good with DIY. A bit too enthusiastic in the sledgehammer department and nowhere near competent enough in the nails. He was supposed to be hiring someone to help him out with it this summer, but he ended up shipping you over here instead.”

“Oh…” Jake wasn’t sure if he was supposed to apologise for this. Jane continued.

“Anyway! It was made before the civil war by this old rich family, big confederate players and I think that you will notice when we get to the town, how much of that old fashioned ideology has endured. A lot of the people are fundamentalists, they aren’t very racially tolerant or highly educated… some horrible things happen in this town, just like there was a lot of nasty stuff went on at that house. Robbery, arson. Fifty years ago they found a body buried in the yard that they dated back to the turn of the century.”

Jake raised his eyebrows, puzzled as to how such a tranquil, quaint rural locality could possibly have that much bad karma attributed to it.

“Most of the current structure is rebuilt, and of course, Dad checked to make sure there were no corpses when he bought the house off his friend.

 “Egbert is only the second family name on the deed and unfortunately for me in forty or so years I suspect that the third will be Crocker, whether I want the place or not. Its unfortunate really, but I suppose if its an up and running bed and breakfast by then I might be able to keep it going. At least until you have kids and I can dump it on them…”

Jake laughed, not realising that Jane was being quite serious.  

“So how did your Dad end up purchasing the house anyway, and why all the way out here?”

“I think it was a favour. Like I said, he bought it off his friend who must have been heir to the now non-existent fortune. I have no idea what happened to him, dad doesn’t tell me about that sort of thing. I imagine he got it for little more than we sold our Washington town house for.”

“Oooooh… what happened to the fortune?” Jake did enjoy a good mystery, and this sure was starting to sound like one!

“I don’t know that, dumby. And don’t be looking like that, please, if you’re going to be spending time with me you can’t be running around like some kind of conspiracy-club sans the mystery machine.”

Oh darn. She knew him too well.

“There’s nothing remotely interesting to entertain in these parts. They probably just spent it on moonshine or rifles or whatever else southerners buy things with. Oh dear…” Jane pulled a face. “That wasn’t supposed to sound as discriminatory as it did.”

“Little could sound as discriminatory as that did, my dear cousin.” Jake tried not to smile. On the horizon, he was beginning to see a cluster of little buildings. The signpost, on the side of the road, boasted that it was half a mile to St. Luke’s. Jake wasn’t sure if this meant a church, or the town itself.

“Both,” Came the reply when he asked. “The town was re-named after the church in 1985. I’m not sure what it was called before then, probably the some derivative of what the house was called.”

“What was the house called?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Probably something stupid. No-one really cares.”

Jake tipped his head in thought, observing the camber of the road as they made a left turn and trundled down a dirt track to the west of the town, alongside a creek that looked like later it might have ambitions of becoming a river. The birds sang cheerfully and the grass murmured, and overall Jake, though he didn’t want to get his hopes up, thought that perhaps this little place did have more to it than just an impossible to tame garden and some pretty scenery.

 

✞

 

The first place Jane took him was the markets, giving him a brief explanation of various buildings and stores, introducing him to a few people, and buying a few pumpkins and a bag of sweet fruits which she had _intended_ to take home but every time she looked away Jake couldn’t stop his hand diving into the bag and snatching a piece for his consumption. This earned him a few dirty looks, but Jane wasn’t altogether sure how to tell him to lay off the chow, so she left him be with a motherly warning that if he had a stomach ache later, it would be his own fault.

“Yeah, okay granny.” He poked out his tongue, stained red by a plum or seven, and made to unpeel a fresh orange. “Are you sure you don’t want some? It’s frightfully good, you know.”

“Quite, thanks.”

The markets at Saint Luke’s were more like farmers markets than anything else, cluttered with people, produce, and animals, but not many because it was not a highly populous town and not many had the patience to travel all this way out to come here from the big city. There were plenty of flowers for sale, and plenty of home made jams and pies. The biggest disappointment Jake could find in the whole place was the fact that there were no meat pies for sale, and he compensated for this by indulging in almost an entire bakery’s worth of free samples.

“Does it not bother you,” Jane asked as they made their way out of the market place and onto the main road of the town, which was very pretty and old fashioned, painted white and accented with hanging baskets of flowers, “that you for all intensive purposes whored your way through half the towns pies without actually buying anything?”

“Whored my way through…”

“Oh, you know… do the stupid flirty thing sluts do to egg guys on and get shit.”

“Oh shush.”

“I’m serious! They thought you were going to buy things!”

Jake shrugged.

“I would have, if I had money.”

A heavy sigh.

“Okay, you will learn this the longer you stay, but you can never expect something for nothing in this town! Look at the people here, and tell me.” Her voice dropped low, conspiring. “ _Tell me that you don’t see something wrong with them._ ”

Jake frowned, and looked around the placid little street.

There were two or three cars parked on the road, which was only a loose metal, and people wandering from shop to shop in the same way people would anywhere else in the world. They were all similar tone, pale, freckled, and golden haired like they were strained from the sun, the broadest variation perhaps brown eyes, or auburn, and over all they were very sturdily built. Most of the men had moustaches, the women all wore dresses. Jake supposed they were friendly enough. At least, they smiled at him when they passed him by. He shrugged.

“No… should I?”

Jane rolled her eyes, and checked her watch.

“Whatever. It’s almost lunch time, do you want to go to a café and get lunch or something?”

“… No. I’m not actually hungry for some reason?”

Jane gave him a dry look, implying that she suspected she may just know why, but decided against pointing it out.

“Well, I do. Come on, that person I had to meet today works at a shop down west street. We can go there, grab something fast to drink and then get back to the house. Good plan?”

Jake shrugged. He supposed so. The town was nice and all, but he supposed it was getting a little boring. He still had some carnations to plant at the property, and then tonight he might join his uncle for a few movies in the parlour…

“I don’t see why not.”

“Right…” she pointed across the road to an intersection by a frame store. “Cross the road up here. Don’t get hit by a car, please.”

“Are you fooling, Jane? You make me sound like some kind of clumsy oaf.”

Jane had meant in the sense that twenty five years of mirrored road rules had left him hopelessly programmed to look the wrong way to cross the street, but the clumsy oaf thing she supposed worked too.

 

✞

 

The café was a Starbucks, a surprisingly big-city detail Jake had not been expecting. He was somewhat comforted by it, actually, and cheerfully enough held the door open for his companion when they drew to the front, noting that off the main street things looked no less manicured than they did in the front.

Inside though, the Starbucks was comfortingly average. Rich with the smell of coffee, decorated with pictures of muffins and cosy, jazz played over the speaker system and there was the soft chatter of mothers sharing cupcakes and tea with their babies in prams. Jake felt oddly tall in this place though, he had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the low ceiling beams, which he attributed to the age of the building and the fact that several hundred years ago, when it was built, men were considerably shorter. Either that or they swaggered with an excessive bow leg, and this bought them down at least thirty centimetres.

There was a young woman at the bar, who fit by all specifications the profile of a total babe, and it was this girl who, when she looked up from the coffee machine, waved so excitedly at Jane Jake thought she would overheat.

“Jane sweetheart!” she spoke with an obnoxious Manhattan accent, like something out of a nineteen twenties mafia film. “You’re a bit early today don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I brought my cousin with me. Roxy, this is Jake.” She gestured to him and drew up to the counter. “Jake, this is Roxy.”

Roxy lifted her hand and gave a very obvious once over. Her prettily shaped eyebrows lifted in approval, and she leaned close to Jane, to whisper something in her ear. Jake suddenly felt quite naked.

Whatever she said, it made Jane giggle and blush, and Roxy stepped back with a smirk.

“Okey dokey then.” She announced, reaching for the cloth on top of the till and dusting some coffee powder off the granite countertop. “What can I get for you handsome? Anything special, it’s on the house.”

Jake looked to Jane, who shrugged and fiddled idly with a packet of sugar she grabbed from the dispenser by the cake cabinet. He bit his lip, and ghosted his hand over his stomach in memory of his excessive food consumption earlier. It was starting to hurt a little…

“Actually,” he mused, almost guiltily because Jane _had_ taken all the time and effort to bring him here. “I kind of want a beer.”

“Ohh!” Roxy gave him a nod of approval. “I like this one lovey, a gentleman after my own heart.”

She smiled at him almost predatorily with glossy magenta lips, her pretty blonde flicks falling over her cheeks. Her eyes, lovely blue and crystalline, were alight with a dangerous feminine blade that intimidated Jake to no end. He decided that Roxy was not the sort of girl a guy like him would be wise to cross.

After a moment, she looked away.

“There’s a bar over the street sells alcohol before five on Saturdays, but be careful no-one sees you go in there. It’s a real seedy place. Right Janey-baby?”

“Yeah…” Jane glanced at Roxy with a crease in her brow. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for Jake to go there…”

“Oh hush, he’ll be fine so long as he knows what he’s getting into.” Conspiratingly, she lent over the bench, and her impressive breast almost fell out of the neckline of her tight white blouse. “The place over there, Club Heaven. It looks like a straight up operation but it’s actually a whore house.” She nodded, and Jake, who came from a town in which legalised prostitution and sexual liberation was no scandal to bat an eye about, didn’t know how he should react to this. The way she said it implied there was something gravely juicy about the whole thing. It wasn’t like Jake hadn’t been to a burlesque house before, or even a brothel. While he wasn’t really into the whole strip club scene he didn’t have anything particularly against it. Should he have?

“… and?”

“And… you go in, people are going to start talk. Everyone knows what it is, but no one wants to say it out loud. Its blasphemy around here, the dirty little secret every town has, and mentioning it, or being caught going there can only end badly.” She straightened up and tucked a thread of hair behind her ear. “The church folk, see, have been trying to get it closed for years. There are no laws against what they do, but in the mind of the town its pretty deep stuff.”

Jane nodded.

“Rule number two of this region, right after always going to church.”

They both finished the sentence at the same time.

“You never, _ever_ go to Club Heaven.”

“Unless,” Roxy added lightly. “You really need a drink.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

If there was one person on the face of the earth completely and utterly ensnared by the conventions of reverse psychology, it was Jake English.

Whether it be jumping off the roof of the shed, not eating that probably poisonous lizard, or putting the communion wafers back where they belong so that the mice don’t get to them, if someone made the mistake of indicating a sincere desire for him to oblige, he was going to do the opposite.

He was. It was a thing.

Naturally, it was a thing that transferred to this precise situation as well, and almost as soon as his company had said don’t, Jakes only instinct was a big, obnoxious _do_.

Jake wanted to go to club heaven. Not even for a beer anymore he just wanted to play the nosey bugger.

He looked between both, cleared his throat, and erected himself to his full, impressive height.

“Which one?” he inquired, every trace of intention expressed in his voice. “I don’t mind, I can just pop right over and fetch a jolly beer. I won’t be a jiffy.”

Jane pulled a disapproving face and sighed. Roxy grinned.

“That one.” She pointed to the building on the direct opposite of the street. Through the window, it looked no different to any other, old fashioned, prettily painted… the slat boards were a cheerful yellow, which appeared a little faded in the sun. in the window, propped against the glass and visible even from this side, was a sign that said open. lace curtains obscured the view inside. There was no sign, no red-light. Overall it was a completely unassuming building and Jake was surprised. He would have guessed that the one next to it, a peachy building with a single storey and suspicious look about it, was the place in question.

“So… I suppose I should just walk over and straight through the door then?”

“No Jake…”

“Very well.” He paid no attention to his cousin and turned away, drifting back to the entrance of the shop and pausing only to cast a smile back at Roxy. “Charmed to meet you by the way, miss…”

“Lalonde.” Roxy waved at him and Jane buried her face in her hand. This was so bad god her cousin was worse than a child.

“Miss Lalonde.” He flashed her that winning, slightly gapped smile, and pushed the door open. The bell tinkled as he did.

This signalled to Jane it was time to follow him, rein him in perhaps and prevent him from making an immense social mistake.

“Jake, wait up.” she leant over the counter to let her friend peck her cheek affectionately and then followed after him, looking a bit silly because a girl with hips like Jane’s was never supposed to run. Ever. Her glasses slipped down her nose and she had to push them up as she made it onto the street and across the road, catching Jakes arm in hers. By now, the wind from the morning had dropped and the stillness amplified the silence in the settlement. Jake seemed surprised to see her at first, and then beamed.

“Glad to see you are coming with me, sweet cousin.”

“I was supposed to be spending the afternoon with Roxy.” She complained. “So lets make this quick. I don’t want you to become the town laughing stock.”

Town pariah would probably have been a closer approximation, but she didn’t want to say this because she knew that Jake would think she was being melodramatic. Jake never made a big enough deal out of anything.

“fine, fine.” They were across the street now and without even a hint of hesitation, or a second to glance around and make sure no-one was watching, Jake read the notice on the door (door closed to keep the cool inside, do not hesitate to enter) and obliged. He noted again that the door window, like the window of the main building, was obscured by pretty lace curtains.

Inside this door lay a dim foyer, and while it took a moment for Jakes eyes to adjust, he thought that in all honesty, club heaven didn’t look much like a bar he’d ever seen before.

The bars to which Jake English was familiar were sports bars, of simple square floor plans, plain white walls and perhaps a single off-colour TV set on a rack in the corner. Filled with a pool table, some stool-less high tables and the stench of beer and smoke, Jake didn’t care for these and he especially didn’t care for the coldness, or the fluorescent light that kept them buzzing, even when there was no one else inside. On the odd occasion he had visited pubs too, which he definitely preferred because usually they had carpet and chairs, and his favourite were definitely the common in Brisbane and Sydney irish pubs, with names like Rosie O’Gradys and the Celtic Arms Inn. Once, he had even been to a club. But he did not like that at all, too much noise and fruity drinks… it was all a bit gay, if you asked him.

But this place looked more like some kind of house, the small space lushly carpeted, the walls papered and panelled and the wall lamps flickering  orange tongues over black and white photos of old Hollywood starlets. This he liked. He liked a lot.

There was a staircase at the back, and a door either wall, which filled Jake with an intensive bout of excitement because they were almost _exactly_ like those fantastic swing doors one sees in the old shoot ‘em up films. Somewhere in the building a bell faded, and only a moment after they entered, the doors on the left flapped open.

“Hello?” the woman who emerged was carrying a large pile of sheets, and though she wore track pants and a singlet she seemed to be of a slightly antique generation. Her hair was pulled off her face into a pony with severity, and for its length it was white. She took a long look at the pair in her foyer, and tipped her head to the side.

“oh.” it was clear from her features that she had been quite beautiful once, and from her speech that she had grown . “Hello. Y’all are a bit early don’t you think?” she smiled, and it was weary, but formally pleasant. “The bar is to the left. Open, but the show doesn’t start for an hour and the girls aren’t ready yet.”

“It’s okay.” Jake reassured her. “We just want a drink.”

“Ahh… I’m sure.” She gave him a brief wink, glanced at Jane and nodded a salute, then swept up the stairs with the energy and grace of a twenty year old.

“So.” Jake looked down on his cousin and shrugged. “Do you suppose she’s the boss?”

“I don’t know and I don’t really care. Hurry hurry, we don’t have all afternoon you know!” she nudged Jake toward the saloon style doors and reached a hand forward to push them open.

Jake almost fell over in excitement.

“Oh good golly Jane!” he loosed his arm and moved forward eagerly, dropping his hands on the back of the closest chair and craning his neck to see the place properly. “Look at this place! It’s exceptional.”

Jane had to admit it was pretty cool…

The Space was large, but welcoming, carpeted with the same cushy red from the foyer and filled with lovely little wooden tables and cushioned chairs with tassels on the seats. The walls were decorated with paintings, and at the far end of the room where a small stage with curtains and façade to boot was overlooked by glamorous neon letter, tracing the words ‘club heaven’ against the wall. The bar, against the same wall as the door was on, was empty of people but cluttered with glittering bottles of liquor of all imaginable kinds. There was a fireplace, on the opposite side, and heavy drapes framed the obscured windows, striped by the sunlight pouring through.

“Wowza, isn’t this classy.” Enchanted, Jake moved over to the bar and leant across it, trying to see if there was anything of interest to examine. There wasn’t really, just a laminated A4 sheet which listed the weekly specials, events, and other related information. Apparently, Saturday night was ‘rodeo night’, of ‘slippery saddles and lovely ladies and three dollar drinks all night long’. On the chalkboard, beside the rack of glasses, some kind of live music was announced for the night. Biting back his childish smile, Jake reached for the bell on the counter and ticked it lightly. The ring echoed in the silence.

There was a moment in which the sound echoed, and Jane heaved a sigh of relief because no one was coming and that meant that they could go already, but then the sound of footsteps falling on stairs broke the peace, and something yelled but muffled by walls, before finally the clatter of those doors swinging open and a girl, about the height of Jane but nowhere near as obviously unfit, entered.

“Hi y’all.” She seemed surprised to see them, looping a black curl, escaped from the tumble of ringlets that she had pinned loosely atop her head, behind a pierced ear. She was still in homely sort of clothes, a pair of jeans and navy blouse, but it was obvious from the size of her chest and the height of her heals that she worked here, and had perhaps even been roused to serve them as she was preparing for the nights show.

Jane took dislike to her instantly, and stabbed an irritated thumb at Jake.

“Drink please.”

“Oh. sure.” She saw Jake standing by the bar, nodded when he raised a hand in greeting, and tottered around the other side to slot a key into the till. “Sorry sweetheart, we don’t usually have customers this early on a Saturday.”

“But… you are open right?” he glanced questioningly at Jane, who shrugged and went back to fiddling with one of the fancy table cloths. Apparently, this bashful negation was a habitual gesture for her. The girl behind the bar hummed, setting the receipt machine and dialling the till to zero.

“Sure are. What can I get cha?”

Jake gave her a appraising look, and decided that she was very charming. Much better than most of the other young ladies he had seen around here in the markets and such.

“Well, I’m not sure.” He leant on the counter and gave her his best, most lady killing grin. Wow she was pretty! Big blue eyes… Jake _loved_ blue eyes. “Are you on the menu?”

“Jake!” humiliated, Jane made to slap him but couldn’t reach, settling instead for flailing her arm at the idiot man and flushing with enough intensity for the two of them. “You cant say that?”

He laughed, and the girl simply looked on with a smile and rosen cheeks that said quite clearly ‘you are cute, and that flattered me more than it should have.’

“I jest of course. But um…” he pressed his lips together and looked over the top of his glasses to the liquor list above the bar. “do you have beer?”

“Sure do, what kind would you like.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jake dipped into his pocket and withdrew his battered billabong wallet. The one he had gotten for his birthday from some kid in his class when he was fifteen. “Just not Guinness.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t know what a Guinness may be, and reached for the glass rack behind her.

“Pint or glass?”

“Um…” an expression of doubt flickered over his face. “Would it perhaps be possible to request a can? I doubt miss Jane would want to linger while I drink.”

Jane shook her head. No, no she did not.

The barmaid pulled an apologetic sort of face and rested her hand on the glasses.

“Sorry sweetie, on tap only.”

“Ahh… darn.” Jake looked most put out. “That’s a bit of a bother then, isn’t it?”

And Jane, as much as she disliked this whole thing, was not so uncompassionate as to want to spoil her cousin’s fun. She sighed, and drifted forward.

“Jake, you stay and have a drink. Roxy and I can go get something to eat together, and I will call you when im leaving town. Do you have your phone?” she raised an eyebrow and, once Jake had processed the proposition and decided that yes, it was a fine idea indeed, he nodded, patting his pocket.

“Indeed I do.”

“Good plan?”

“Indeed it is!” and although he was a bit sorry he would not soon be talking with the charming Miss Lalonde again soon, he was glad at the prospect of spending a while getting to know the lovely specimen at the bar a bit better instead. “Any idea how long you will be?”

“Mmm… maybe an hour? Perhaps more, Roxy wanted to go to the cinema…”

“Oh, its not a problem. I’m perfectly tickled pink to stay here.” He grinned and waved her on her way. “Have a good time.”

It was always a challenge for Jane to come to terms with the shear blitheness of Jake and his mannerisms, and she couldn’t help feel a little like she had cheated him out of the day she had promised as she left, but she did suppose he was right. He certainly did look happy as a particularly happy clam, and she supposed that easy come easy go mentality was just one of the perks of having an exceptionally short attention span.

 

✞

 

Jake whittled away the hour impending the show easily, chatting to the blue eyed beauty about whatever came to mind but mostly about the town, though she had moved here from South Carolina only last spring and didn’t yet know all that much about it. as the time passed more men a little older than Jake slunk into the bar, looking very guilty and shady about it, and when Jake greeted them with a cherry ‘G’dday.’ He received a slew of dirty looks for his effort, and decided that perhaps he should stop trying to be sociable and just prepare to have a look at tits.

He assumed that was what the rest of the guys were here for. He was no stranger after all, to the wiles of a horny gentleman.

“What’s the show like?” he asked his barmaid ten minutes before, as she was stacking glasses in preparation to disappear and make ready to perform. She shrugged and gave him a little smile.

“Depends what you’re into doesn’t it love. Its quite quaint, a bit like an old wild western show, you know?”

Jake did not know. he shrugged and slid his second empty beer glass across the bar in a gesture for her to refill and she did.

“What are the girls like?”

“Most of them are from out of town… if any of the local girls caught some of these men in here there would be a LOT of drama at the church social on Sunday.” She laughed a little and Jake smiled at her over the head of his fresh beer as soon as she passed it back. “The men are good at keeping mum, if they see someone else here they never say a word because they don’t want their wives or pastors to find out. What happens in heaven stays in heaven, right.”

Jake laughed and sipped his drink.

“Right.” he had not missed the fact that indeed he recognised at least three of the ten or eleven patrons the room had collected since he had arrived. One of them was the Church Choir leader he had met the Sunday gone, and he looked nothing quite so holy as he did then. Rest assured.

Jake sighed and turned his attention to the stage as the barmaid slipped from behind the bar and approached the windows to drop the blinds. Darkness fell in the space, punctuated only by the candles on each table and the old fashioned wall lamps. Jake waited in anticipation, knowledge dictated by logic and years of absorbed experience that soon a spotlight would flash on the stage, and the girls would be introduced. A hush fell in the bar and Jake hummed. It was strange, he thought, how something so normal to him as strip clubs could create this hallowed sense of awe in a probably sexually oppressed society.

And then the spotlight did indeed flicker on, and every eye in the room trained to the stage. From the corner of his vision Jake saw his barmaid duck behind the bar quickly to lock the till and then disappear again into the foyer, a few more men slunk in the swinging doors and took seats at a table at the back. A tall woman, the same grey haired lady who had greeted he and Jane when they arrived, glided from the concealed left wing onto stage in a dress so sparkly and expensive looking that Jake thought Angelina Jolie would be envious, and behind her a shadow, probably the pianist because they slunk down off the stage immediately and installed themselves at the piano on the far right corner of the room, made haste.

The woman cleared her throat.

“Hello everyone.” She spoke clearly, even though there was no microphone “and welcome to Club Heaven. As our regulars know, the bar is now closed and will open again in an hour or so once the show is underway, the emergency exit is to the left side of the room through the swing doors, and if you could please refrain from touching our ladies that would be positively wonderful.” She gave the small crowd a kindly smile. “But please, do enjoy the show. Best of luck and may you all enjoy your trip to heaven.”

Oh wow, this really was just such a cute and small-town place.  

Jake English was not a snob, but he certainly did feel worldly and superior to all of these men as the owner lady slash pimpess slash whatever she was disappeared back into the stage and everyone started shuffling excitedly, trying to crane their necks in time with the lulling music to start. Jake smiled a little to himself and looked down into his beer, noting movement from the corner of his eye but uninterested in the actual source of it. the tapping of the piano animated a very movie-esque feeling of old western saloons, the intake of breath from the audience suggested that the woman were starting to file on stage, and it was then Jake decided it would be appropriate to look up and assess the display on a scale of one to scandalous.

Well, the girls were pretty, he would give them that.

They stalked out onto the stage one by one in flouncy dresses, each one wore a specific colour, and the leader appeared to be wearing bright pink, horn rimmed spectacles flashing just as dangerously as her smile. She stood stable at centre stage while the other girls moved to flank her and Jake crinkled his nose in amusement. Wow, how adorably cute. Lovely ladies with lovely faces and long legs disappearing into tiny frilly skirts. High fishnets, big breasts… each dress, while similar, was carefully tailored to accommodate to the body type of the woman inside it, and as the chopping music arched, somewhere backstage a stereo hit and the sound in the club became much more suave. Spotlights swung and all the lamps on the walls extinguished in a dramatic cue for them to start dancing.  

Oh, Strippers. Goddamn, it didn’t matter how many times he encountered them, Jake _could not take them seriously_. Sure, he liked woman, but honestly watching them gyrate emotionlessly onstage struck him as mildly ridiculous. He was much more into the classy sort of beauty. Audrey Hepburn was a _huge_ thing for him. Marilyn Munroe… classical cinema just _killed_ him for girls and well honestly, there was nothing on earth quite as sexy as a blue eyed black and white goddess with high hair and diamonds. Like, not even almost anorexic brunettes with hooker heals and flouncy corset style sex outfits.

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t look on with interest.

He took a moment to look over each girl one by one, assessing them, looking at the way they flexed and lifted their legs. He had gotten through three of them when the choreography called for them to part, and the four or so he hadn’t yet assessed moved off stage and into the audience to twist and offer themselves up for lap dances to any particularly willing customer. In the low light, it was harder for him to make out the details of their faces, and he pays little attention to them mostly, choosing to focus instead on the girls onstage who are illuminated and _suggesting_ that they might take off their dresses soon, if the audience stares hard enough. Some part of him though, knows they will not.

He almost falls off his chair when a hand brushes his shoulder, and a body, slim and elegant in high strappy heals, sweeps past. In the low light, he can see only the subtlest shine on the ruffles of her satin skirt, he can see shadows describe the slightly bigger than the others curve of her waist, and the light ghostly colour of her hair. She does not look back at him as she approaches another table, one which looks like the occupant may just pay her for her services, and so Jake must try and see her face in shaded profile when she turns to regard the man at this table, lifting her leg and setting it spread and open teasingly, but not betraying anything beneath, on the side of his chair. Jakes stomach dropped and his heart leapt, leaving a void in his torso that quickly flooded with awe and heat. It was hard to explain, what gravity drew his attention to the angled curve of her shoulder and the precise way she held her chin. Hard to explain, but why would you explain it, when that would take all the magic away.

He watched her with numb fixation as she rolled her hips forwards, beckoning the man to lean towards her, and then as quick as she did so she moved away again, dragging him like a pitiful dog on a leash as she swayed back toward the stage. Jake couldn’t quite make out the motion of her ass, but his mind wasted no time filling the gap, creating a sweeping figure eight as she moved and undulated past other less fortunate patrons. As she drew closer to the stage, Jake drew and held a mouthful of breath. Like a puppet under a spell he waited, dying to see…

Under the harsh spotlight it was immediately obvious that her dress was orange, whereas before all that could be seen was a deep shade of grey. Her skin was white, blindingly ivory almost, and stained by freckles over her shoulders and back. She lilted up the stairs and lifted her face, turning to face the crowd and pressing her lovely glossed lips together. Her eyes were dramatic and feline, chips of topaz glittering in the bleaching spotlight, and the glittering diamonds decorating her neck and elegantly styled blonde hair sparkled devastatingly bright, stars stolen from the sky and set into her locks. Curls and lips and slender limbs, Jake had never seen anything so perfectly constructed in his life, and immediately after having his breath stolen he felt his knees turn to jelly, his pelvis tighten in a manner that suggested he may just want to fuck, and his heart rate rise enough to make him dizzy.

Who. In the name of jolly hell. Was that?

“Jake?”

And this time Jake actually did slip off his chair, swinging around and seeing Jane behind him, her eyes wide in disgust, watching the activity on stage.

“What is going on Jake?”

“Nothing!” instantly guilty he erected himself and grabbed his handle of beer, swallowing down the last of it and clapping it on the bar. “Nothing at all, of course. Shall we depart?” he edges in front of his cousin, trying to block her view of the stage, but with minimal success. Jane has already seen it, and she is really quite less than impressed.

“Strippers Jake?” mothering and irate she grabbed his wrist and pulled. “Really?”

Her angry his was loud, and Jake hoped she wouldn’t attract the attention of other audience members.

“I mean I knew you were weird but strippers? Are you _serious?_ ”

“you left me here!” he defended, as if that made the whole thing okay. “You were quite aware of the nature of this place, you told me so!”

“Yes but I would have thought you’d have the decency to…ugh!” she gave up for clucking and frog marching him out of the door. Sometimes she just… she didn’t know what to do.

Jake felt rather as though he had just been caught masturbating by his mother, but thought he had got off quite lightly. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey look its more of this. i dont know.

The ride home was tense with disagreement, mostly on account of Jane’s irritation, which for the record was not just because Jake had been watching whores ply their trade, but because she had _knowing let him do this_. Honestly, she could never have predicted how much such a thing had offended her, and her subconsciously adopted values. Had she really been in this place that long, that she was starting to get touchy about such silly insignificant details as the male libido?

Ugh, that was a depressing thought.  

As they drove, Jake (picking the last few fejoas and plums out of the bag of fancy fruits and spitting the stones and skins out onto the road) tried to let his mind wander, trying to distract himself from Jane’s huffing and his stomach churning from a little too much beer. Unfortunately, or fortunately, it did not wander far. In fact it wandered almost directly back to ‘Club Heaven’, and the mind blowing blonde Miss he had encountered. Or not quite encountered. But as a man’s mind tends to do, by the time they crunched back into the drive of the big house Jake’s imagination had conjured an entire and inventive scenario, involving eyecontact, lip licking, and a sexy little wink which was too devastating even for him to _really_ picture, but he knew that it turned his bones to cooked spaghetti and slacked all his muscles like wet string.

He was sporting a chubby by the time he had to get out of the car, and had to do some brief and practiced crotch adjustments before he rounded the side and faced Jane, who really only gave him a dirty look and carried on up the last stretch to the steps of the house. His Uncle John was sitting in a rocking chair on the porch reading a newspaper, he looked up when Jake approached, in the wake of his most put out daughter, and the similarities were painfully striking.

John was aged, but youthful in the eyes and around the corners if his smile. Thick black bed hair, peppered with gray, square framed glasses… he fixed his eyes on Jake as he approached and dropped his newspaper.

“Hey Jake.”

“Good afternoon sir.” Jake mock saluted and decided he didn’t want to follow Jane into the house just yet, choosing instead to shuffle along and lean against the neatly painted white railing that edged the veranda.  “Hope you are well.”

“Not bad, actually. I see you are enjoying your day off…”

“Quite…” Jake eyed the silhouette of his cousin sweeping upstairs through the curtained window, and it wasn’t until she had gone that he dared to mention the thing perched excitedly on the tip of his tongue. “I ended up visiting a little organisation… interesting place. You know… ladies.” He folded his arms and tried to look like he might be amused by the notion of his hormonal stupidity. John lifted his chin slowly in understanding and twitched his moustache. Funny moustache it was too, it made him look older than he should do but the effect was primarily humorous, and thus it existed solely for this purpose.

“Club heaven, am I right? I went there a couple of times with a friend of mine… it was real weird, smelt like beer and lady sweat.” He shrugged.

Jake seemed quite taken aback.

“Excuse me! I thought it was a charming place. Very classy. And the women were top notch.”

“Yeah sure, on a Saturday afternoon when they only bring in the ones with class. You should see the Friday night imports. Most of them are terrifying and the ones that aren’t have funny curly hairs all down their thighs. Not even god himself could forgive that, I think.” He reflected for a moment, and pulled a face. “Then again, last time I went there was fifteen years ago…”

“Yes indeed.” Feeling like now was an appropriate time to jibe the man’s age, Jake smiled. “Half those woman are probably dead by now.”

“Oh haha Jake. You may just have one over me yet.”

Jake jerked his chin up in acknowledgement, but he sincerely doubted it. His uncle, though not particularly quick witted, was indeed the king of slapstick jokes and hilarity at the expense of others. His tongue, whilst gauche, was lucky, and he had a sass matched by perhaps only the _largest_ of independent woman who don’t need no man. This was only really evident though, when he was in writing or on stage. In real life, he was frankly just a bit peculiar.

Oh, and awkward. Like lone-sheep-in-a-busy-office awkward, where everyone just sort of looks and thinks ‘what is that sheep doing there?’ but no one feels quite mean-hearted enough to kick it out.

Jake liked his uncle though. He wouldn’t have come if he didn’t, and he certainly had fond memories of the time he had come to visit he and his mother twelve or so years ago. The picture of his face upon mistaking Vegemite for Nutella was going to be forever imprinted on Jake’s brain.

“So I was thinking we could watch a movie tonight?” John asked, and Jake immediately perked. A movie fan if there ever was one, he had seen most if not all of the movies available from blockbusters, and yet half the foreign films and cult movies in John's collection he had never seen, and every day new ones arrived in packages addressed in the same red-pen chicken scratch to which Jake had become accustomed, marking things from instructions to cake tins all through the house. These packages were always packed with three cases and tied with string, and they bore stamps from seemingly unrelated locations right across the world. Perhaps his uncle was a member of some kind of weird movie-swingers club, Jake didn’t know and honestly he didn’t care. He just liked to reap the benefits.

“Sure!” he leant forward and chewed his bottom lip excitedly. “What kind of movie?”

“Oh… well I dunno… Fargo?”

Jake had seen Fargo. He liked it, told his uncle this, and John crinkled his nose.

“Okay, well how about we watch that and the Wicker Man.”

“Old one or Nic Cage.”

“Must you ask?”

Jake rolled his eyes.

“Alright I guess that’s an affirmative. Shall I ask Miss Jane if she wishes to accompany us?”

“You know, I think she will. She can make us a cake. Go inside and ask, she might let you help her.”

Actually, she probably would. Jane really did love baking, and she was very good. Jake however, was notoriously bad. He had a terrible habit of getting dirt in the batter. Always. Even if he hadn’t been near dirt for weeks. For this, he negated.

“No, I might go have a shower…” he remembered his little semi-problem, and what had caused it a few moments earlier. He hadn’t rubbed one out since arrival, and was feeling rather as though now might be the time. “But I will without a doubt stop by Jane’s room and request such a sweet favour. Shall we say… seven?”

“After dinner. Perfect. See yas then.”

With a cute, rabbity smile John went back to reading his paper and Jake pulled himself of the banister, thoughts immediately arrowing back to the lady from the Club called Heaven.

 

✞

 

Sunday morning was, as in many small towns across the globe, a small very neatly organised event, filled with calm chatter and a parade of almost pilgrims across the gravel of the church car park and toward the chapel. Jake, wearing a pair of not-too-ripped jeans and a button up shirt, felt gravely under dressed considering his uncle and cousin were both wearing Sunday bests, John in a suit with a crisp blue tie and Jane in a lovely yellow dress which looked nice with her pale eyes. Even Roxy made an appearance, dressed in a beautiful pink dress and ridiculously pinpoint heals, her heart shaped lips painted red like wine. Everyone wearing formals spared Jake a look, and for a terrifying moment, as he passed under the shadow of the stone belltower, he found himself wondering if perhaps they were remembering yesterday, and the ‘profitable for only one party that day’ pie sampling of Saturday morning.

He dismissed this immediately.

It was not difficult though, to pick out from the small cluster of townsfolk as they walked solemnly into the chapel to the drone of the organ, the men who had been in club heaven when Jake had stopped by. Even some of the girls he recognised! Looking most chaste and neatly done by their father’s side, smiling shyly at anyone who looked their way. He recognised his barmaid, and gave her a small wave. She smiled back, but did not raise her hand.

“Rude.” He pointed out. “I tried it on with her for about forty five minutes yesterday afternoon you know!”

Roxy and Jane were informed of his indignance in hushed tones as they filed into an assigned pew and reached for the red, bricklike hymn books in front of them. Jane sighed and opened her book to hymn 99, Roxy clucked and knocked his knee lightly.

“Only forty five?! For shame boy… you are lucky you even got a smile.”

He pulled a face and went back to scanning the crowd, some (embarrassingly large) part of him looking out quite frantically for his mystery girl in the orange dress, even though he doubted she would wear such an outfit to church.

“Hey.” Roxy tapped him on the arm and pointed, he snapped his head around with a heartleap before he realised that he had never even told her about his experience, so how was she supposed to know who she was pointing out. “You know who that is right?”

An important woman, tall with long hair and her face set in the frames of fuchsia pink horn rims, stalked into the church with all the attitude of a woman who suspected she ran all this shit. Jake nodded.

“Sure, she’s the mayor.”

“Right. She’s the one who wants to have your happy little place shut down.” Roxy winked a knowing wink and Jake flushed.

“It’s not my happy little place.”

“Oh please Jake lovely, Jane told me all about your adventures yesterday. Didn’t she Jane?”

Jane huffed and ruffled the rice paper pages of the hymn book in agitation, her father beside her sitting around rather lamely and fiddling his thumbs. The pew in front of them was beginning to fill now, and the hushed murmur was beginning to grow less breathy and more staticy, as the gaps between words of one conversation were filled by the words of a distant one.

Roxy ran her tongue smoothly over her upper lip and pointed at a man at the front of the church. Jake couldn’t see him from the front, but from behind he looked like someone had tried to cram as much bogan as they possibly could into one suit, with mixed results.

“Eden. He and his son are complete suck ups to the vicar. Her over there? The old woman with the walker? Fiona, the mayor’s grandmother. She’s almost on her death bed I would say…” one by one Roxy went around the church, pointing out people and quipping fast facts about them in the way that Jane, the day before, had not. Jake however was too busy trying to pick one head out of the many, and it was much harder than one would think. How could he miss someone so radiant? With such glorious, goddess like curls?

And just as Roxy began droning about Solomon the red-haired technician from the council or something Jake wasn’t sure he wasn’t really listening, he spotted a flash of that blonde, and a walk that he may just have recognised from somewhere.

Alas, as soon as he snapped his head around, he was to be disappointed. The owner being no more than a man about his age, perhaps a little shorter, sporting obscenely comical shades and a black suit over a tieless white shirt, the top two buttons of which were undone and the collar popped to ridiculous effect. Jake snorted, and clapped his hand over his mouth.

“What?” Roxy dropped what she was saying and frowned at him. “Did I say something?”

“No… just him. What’s with those shades? Seems silly for wearing them in church don’t you think?”

Roxy glanced where he was pointing and for a moment just stared, jaw slack. And then her face split into a somewhat concerning smile.

“Ahaha, Jake Jake Jake. You really _are_ new here…”

But before she could elaborate everyone was dropping into their seats, the organ grinding to a halt. The Tall, young, and exotic Vicar of St. Luke’s was entering, decked impressively in his vicarly robes and looking just as glassy and otherworldly as Jake thought he had the week before. Dressed in white and sweeping gracefully up the aisle of an old stone chapel he certainly was an extraordinary sight, his dark, thick hair curling around his face and at the butterfly of his shoulder blades, his lips curved into a slightly broken-mirror smile. Jake thought he had never seen a priest quite like this man before, certainly not one so young and yet so apparently old, and only now he had seen the rest of the town, with its sun bleached residents, did he think it unusual that the preacher and effective head of the entire religious society was actually clearly foreign, his skin golden and sandy like a creature from a distant desert. The air billowed in his wake, and silence fell. The sound of his footsteps as he approached the pulpit and set his small black covered bible in the stand echoed, and he spoke with a smooth, richly accented voice. Jake didn’t like it, but rather than say anything bowed his head in uniform with everyone else in the room.

“Hello Brothers, and brotherettes. Are we ready to welcome the miracle of salvation into our hearts today?”

And so it was that Sunday morning commenced, the only betrayal of time passing as the mans echoing sermon progressed was the shaft of sunlight falling through the stained glass windows sliding slowly in Technicolor across the floor.

 

✞

 

Jake was almost hesitant to take food from the many plates on offer during the after-service luncheon, but he got over that quickly when he saw that one of the woman had made ginger pudding, and even though it  was summer Jake _loved_ ginger pudding. He was halfway through his third steaming slice, examining a black and white photograph of the church hall construction with a little plaque underneath it, when he was approached, a light firm tap pulling him from his contemplations and attracting his attention centrally on the young man who had approached.

“Jake, am I right?” it was the vicar, startlingly tall and still in his robes, uncommonly lilac eyes dreamy but focused directly and unnervingly on Jake’s. Without intending to, Jake leaned back, almost toppling over a chair.

“Yes, actually.” He realised it would probably be appropriate to offer his hand, and the man took it, smiling ever so subtly.

“Gabriel Makara, but my brothers call me Gabby.” He took back his hand and brushed it through a curtain of curls. Jake curled his toes uncomfortably in his shoes. Vicar Gabby sounded like a ridiculous title, he didn’t dare say it but he thought it with every decibel of his minds voice.

“I heard you are staying with John and Jane in the old house…”

Jake didn’t think much of the way ‘Gabby’ talked, as though his words were a thin and glossy veil stretched over an undulating body of subtext and mis-meanings.

“Yes, that’s correct. I’ve been there-“

“A week, I know, I know… it’s wonderful to see you at the church so soon. I saw you last Sunday too, but thought you were just a stranger passing by.”

“Oh, I um…”

“Shh brother its okay, its okay. Tell me though, what of the lord’s great miracles has brought you to our sleepy little village? Tell me about how long you intend to stay.”

Before Jake had a chance to defend himself, there was a cotton draped arm looped around his shoulders, and he was being guided through the quietly chattering hall toward the door.

“I hear your mother was a teacher too. I’m interested in hearing you shoot the breeze on her lessons and understanding of our lord.”

Oh hell this was quite a pickle Jake found himself in. His mother may indeed have played an important role in his home church, but that is not to imply that Jake was in any way religious. Also how had this weirdo even known about this? it all seemed rather worrying, confusing, and Jake being a little slow himself struggled to make any connections at all as to why this man, who may have been twenty but could also very easily have been eighty, might know anything about him or his life.

He was saved by an unfamiliar voice, which Jake thought firmly must have belonged to some kind of angel, harking him over with the same sturdy twang Jake had come to associate with the region.

“English!” it was a male voice, and as soon as he and the preacher heard it Jake snapped his face around and placed it to the same beshaded fellow he had pointed out to Roxy in the church, standing in conversation with his cousin and his uncle and holding a paper cup filled with the weak yellow juice the old ladies in the kitchen must have mixed up from cordial powder. “Come here, I don’t believe we been introduced.”

Jake looked between the blonde stranger and the preacher, whose face had darkened significantly, his arm slipping from around his shoulder, and then back to the stranger again.

“Sorry.” he excused himself and removed himself from the man’s clutches. “I had better go over, that’s my uncle you know.”

He kicked himself inwardly, for how awkward that sounded, and slunk past a young and head turningly pretty lady (chatting animatedly to a taller man in kickass combat boots and a torn military shirt) toward his saviour(s). He was still inspecting the butt of the pretty girl when he made it there, and John had to click his fingers to bring him back.

“Eyes in your head boy. Geeze, this is church.”

“Ah, right.” scratching his head sheepishly he looked to the others and pulled a face. “Wow, thanks for that. Who even was that guy?”

“Makara.” Informed the stranger in the group shortly, shades flashing with dislike of the name as he turned his head. Jane beside him cleared her throat and tapped her fathers shoulder, leaning to whisper something in his ear. Jake noted this, but did not pull his gaze from the other man, who simply carried on talking. “He’s the vicar, obviously. Do those glasses not work?”

“They work perfectly fine!” Jake thought it was somewhat silly for this man to be insulting his glasses, considering, and yes found that it did rustle his jimmies at _least_ a little bit. “I meant to ask why he is so unusual. What is his deal?”

“His deal,” John intervened before the blonde man could spit out the no doubt fiery retort on the tip of his tongue, “is that he is the head of the local religious movement and we can talk a little more on him later. Right now though, we need to introduce you to Dirk Strider, my farm hand and friend.” He gestured to the stranger and Jake inhaled sharply. Oh crap, this was the farm hand? The one with the horses? Dirk pulled a face and jammed out his hand. He seemed somewhat pissed off about the whole deal but when Jake, realising for the first time that he was still holding his empty pudding plate, handed the plate to Jane and shook it, he found the mans grip to be firm but warm and friendly, his shake commanding but certainly not aggressive.

“Charmed to meet you.” Jake quipped, and Dirk grunted.

“You too. I hear you are good with physical labour.”

“I’m not bad.” Jake let himself smile, in an attempt to smooth the ungraceful start of their relationship, and allowed his hand to drop to his side. “When I was a boy I lived in the outback, so I know a few things.”

Dirk studied him, the ghost of a smirk pulling his lips.

“Oh really. The outback.”

Jake nodded.

“I think you will find there are no kangaroos to lasso around these parts, English. From now on I will just assume you know nothing and we will get on just fine.”

Jake was offended, but after seeing Jane’s face at Dirk’s shoulder, decided against making a retort. The man Dirk Strider swept his hand through his hair as though he really did believe himself to be the greatest shit ever, and sighed.

“Okay John, I met him. Can I get going now I have things to do you know.”

“Sure sure get out of here.” John waved his hand with a faint trace of affection and Jake sniffed, not sure how well he liked this Dirk fellow much at all. “See you tomorrow bright and early though. Alright.”

“Yessir.” Dirk leaned in and placed a friendly and very gentlemanly peck on Jane’s cheek, which made her flush prettily, and clapped John steadily on the shoulder. “Will you be working with me tomorrow, English?”

Jake didn’t know how to answer, and let his uncle answer for him.

“Actually Jake and I were going to finish the garden tomorrow. Maybe Tuesday if that’s not a bother.”

“Nah, that’s fine. See ya.”

“Yeah…” Jake greeted. “Bye.”

And he watched Dirk Strider leave, walking with a swagger that oozed self assurance and very little tolerance for the remotely humorous.

 

✞

 

“So,” Jane presented, leaning on the doorframe and regarding her cousin as he sat in the parlour watching the animal channel that afternoon. “How did you like the service this morning?”

“Oh,” Jake looked up and smiled. “You are still talking to me then?”

Jane rolled her eyes and pulled up from against the beam, padding into the room wearing only her pyjamas with little blue flowers on them and slippers.

“I wasn’t not talking to you. I just find you difficult to deal with when you are being too…” she rolled her hands and Jake poked out his tongue, pulling his eyes back to the TV and the migration patterns of buffalo across various plains.

“The service was fine. The vicar was a little bit abnormal and I thought the farm boy… okay. I don’t know. He wasn’t bad.”

He actually was.

“Hm.” Jane lifted her chin and swayed across the large, handsomely decorated room. “Dirk’s a great guy. But I was quite worried about what he would think about you.”

Jake snickered. “What, why?”

She shrugged. “No reason. He’s just very Dirk, and you’re very Jake, and I wasn’t altogether sure how much Jake he could handle. He’s a very private, very serious sort of person. Don’t be getting too up in his face because I can see him getting mad fast.”

Jake made a note of this and reached for the remote on the coffee table which interrupted the space between the large squishy sofa, and the TV. He felt sort of out of place in this room, it was too large and too high ceilinged, and there was not enough furniture in it to make it feel cosy or lived in. The furniture suite, the TV, the bookshelves by the fireplace (filled with books on the left and DVDs on the right) and the large chandelier swaying from the ceiling were the only objects in here, and the carpet which John had had installed only seven or eight months ago still had that unpleasant brand new smell about it, though it was very plush and an attractive dark royal blue. He didn’t care for being here, but John was in the lounge, a much more comfortable space overall, playing xBox live (what forty something year old played xBox live? That was weird. A perfect example of John’s inherent weirdness) and it was too early for him to go to bed or make dinner. Maybe in an hour or so…

He saw Jane glancing at the clock, and cleared his throat. Maybe he could try and make conversation?

“Well, actually, I don’t really care about Dirk right now okay. Can you tell me about the weird preacher? He had my heebies jeebying like no-ones business.”

Yes. That was good. Find out some information, answer a few of the questions on his mind.

Jane gave him a characteristically critical look, and for a moment, Jake worried she wasn’t going to say, but then…

“Gabriel Makara hasn’t even been here as long as us, but his family was here as the church folk back in the old days. They named one of the streets in the town after them. He’s actually pretty okay. Creepy, weird, but he’s nice enough. I think he does a bit of the… you know?” she mimed smoking a cigarette, and Jake, though dense, immediately understood it to mean that he did not strictly smoke tobacco. “He has a kid, about sixteen, but I only met him once and he was _terrifying_. Like if you think Gabby is bad you don’t know anything. He teaches weird religion though.” Thoughtful, Jane folded her legs under her and sighed. “I’m not religious, but I know that there’s something not right about the Christianity in this town. It’s like a cult, don’t you think?”

Jake didn’t care, he was too busy trying to make sense of the man himself as opposed to his system of beliefs and values.

“What’s the son named? Something biblical?”

“I don’t know that. Does it matter? He left town anyway, haven’t seen him for ages. There’s plenty of rumours though. Some reckon he killed a guy, others say he got caught going into Club Heaven. Sent somewhere, I don’t know. Gabby doesn’t like to talk about it.”

“You call him ‘Gabby’.”

“Yeah. Um…” Jane looked almost embarrassed. “There’s a youth group in the town he used to run, and when he arrived I kind of…”

“Kind of what?”

“I kind of went because…”

“Because…” Jake tried to egg her on, suspecting where this may be going but not precisely sure. If he was right she would never hear the end of it.

“Because when he arrived I thought he was really cute alright?! What, don’t look at me like that?”

Jake almost pissed himself laughing. Not being a homosexual, he wasn’t an expert but supposed that as long as the man didn’t open his mouth he did come across kind of attractive. Kind of.

“Anyway, at the youth group he got everyone to call him Gabby, and he was actually pretty cool. Just weird. Ask Dad about him if you like, but you’ll get a similar answer. If you’re trying to puzzle a puzzle around here, which don’t lie I know you entirely are, you aren’t going to get to the bottom of it by antagonising a man who is at best a puppet.”

“… A puppet for who?”

Jane’s face blanched, and it was obvious that she had said a slip too much.

“Never mind.” She finished the conversation curtly and snatched the remote from Jakes limp hand. “Are you watching this? Nigella is on tonight and I don’t want to miss it.”

 

✞

 

Jake thought that the mystery of the mysterious vicar was going to keep him up all night, but apparently it wasn’t quite mysterious enough and the next moment it was seven am, the sun high in the sky and shining brightly through the cracks in his bedroom curtains. Vivid green eyes flickering open, Jake caught the low grumble of a heavy vehicle grinding up the drive and stood, feeling for his glasses on the side table. After drawing his drapes, he retrieved his boxer shorts, cargo pants and a t-shirt from his floor, and moved through into the ensuite. He then showered and thought that tomorrow he might want to take an early morning bath, (though on some level he knew he never would,) before stepping out, towelling off and dressing in the glorious, crisp light which poured through his second story bathroom window. Naked, he wandered over to this window and peered out, watching from above as a man in an orange cap dragged rakes and a pitchfork off the back of his beaten Ute. Now that Jake thought about it, this man, most probably Dirk, would have had an excellent opportunity to glance up and see his complete nakedness any one of the five working mornings passed. He made a mental note to shower with the bathroom curtains (plasticky frosted blue ones) closed in future, before he dressed and made his way downstairs for breakfast. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so... who likes filler??? kinda. 
> 
>  
> 
> i am so sorry

“Hey…” Jake approached Dirk Strider almost sheepishly Tuesday morning, hands clasped behind his back, wearing old cargo shorts and a T-shirt with a koala on it. He had gotten up an hour earlier specially to catch the man as he unpacked his ute, and was delighted to have succeeded. Dirk, rather than return his greeting, simply threw him a spade and slammed the back hatch of the vehicle shut, picking up a bag of tools he had set by his feet and hitching it over his shoulder. The peculiar fumping noise he made as he walked around the other side of the trailer betrayed to Jake that with his tatty jean shorts the man was wearing what an Australian would somewhat cryptically refer to as gumbies, and to those in the know were a durable rubber boot suitable for heavy gardening work. He had a singlet on, one which described the musculature of his body finely, and Jake observed as he scurried in his wake that he had a tattoo on his one bicep, a tattoo Jake thought deeply ludicrous but decided not to point out. Instead, he tried for the friendly thing, scuttling to keep up as they passed the side of the house and by the gardens, which Jake had painstakingly manicured, without even a glance.

“So!” he tried to sound hearty and only half accomplished this, “where are we headed to today? Going to muck some stables… clear some land…”

“Septic tank.” Dirk responded, deadpan. “There’s a leak or something. Gotta patch that baby up so she’s singing sweet again. Watch the ground up here, it’s a bit disgusting.”

Disgusting was an understatement. Beyond the garden, which was neatly framed by trimmed hedges, was a man made forest pressing onto the back of the house. Jake wasn’t sure at all where the stables were supposed to be, but it was evident that on the hem of this forest was the alleged septic tank, probably buried under a twenty centimetres or so of smelly, squishy ground, the grass of which was drowning in leaked, floridly unpleasant water.

What were septic tanks for again? Jake thought he had an idea.

Dirk dropped his tools on the ground and placed his hands on his hips. He regarded the ground stoutly, face unreadable behind the apparently permanent shades, and then he turned to Jake.

“Go on then, _mate_. Get going.”

Oh well okay then. The alpha male apparently was issuing a challenge. And Jake was certainly not a man to forgo a challenge. He still wasn’t sure, as he jammed his spade into the yielding, soggy ground, whether or not Dirk Strider even liked him, but he thought that as a bloke it was his duty to prove himself. After all, look at Dirk. Just look at him. His hair, blonde and careless, his body sculpted by years of manual labour. His face was shadowed, his shoulders singed red and freckled. The veins on his forearms made pale grooves under his skin, and his hands were delicate but callused, very no nonsense and spotlessly clean. How devastatingly handsome and manly a man. As far as Jake was concerned Dirk was the epitome of a southern youth, and as much as Jake disliked him he couldn’t help feel a little in awe in his presence, a little driven to prove himself worthy.

He dug out the area of muck quite swiftly, calling on the muscles endowed by years of tramping and abseiling, and flushed with pride when he struck something hard and concrete under the ground, the hollow thud loud over the summer sounds of long grass and birds singing in the trees. Dirk grunted, and tapped his hand lightly in a request for the shovel.

“You have a good arm.” He stated steadily. “But for future reference, you shouldn’t dig with a shovel. You cut. See?” he illustrated, finding an unturned square of earth and sticking the shovel straight down. He then removed it and repeated twice, to cut a neat H shape into the ground.

“From there you stick the shovel in and cut from underneath.”

Moving mechanically and smoothly he manoeuvred precisely this, flipping up the one side of the H like he was opening a hatch door, and repeating on the other side. This, once he had scraped away the remaining dirt, revealed a perfect square of the concrete tank, and left a very neat area around the breach almost totally unlike the muddy chaos Jake had summoned.

“Oh…” Jake felt immediately very dumb. “Right…”

“Hm.”

Obviously a man of little words Dirk cut the squares of grass topped ground out of the earth and bent down to pick them up, passing them to Jake.

“Set these over there by that tree. I’m going to uncover the area like this and then when we find the hatch we can look at fixing her up.”

Jake nodded, trying not to feel disgusted at the sludgy, gross smelling water these clods of dirt were dripping down the inside of his wrists. Dirk gave him a little head tip and picked back up his spade.

“Don’t look so upset.” Dirk told him. “You can have a shower afterwards.”

Jake thought he was going to need an industrial decontamination.

 

✞

 

“Here.” Dirk passed him a towel and a bottle of water. “You worked good today. Better than I expected.”

Jake scowled, removed his glasses, and wiped them clean on the worn old towel.

“That was positively the most repulsive thing I’ve ever done.”

“Fortunately for you then, it’s not an every day occurrence.”

The septic tank debacle had taken about an hour and a half to resolve, and Jake had gotten a lot messier than he ever would have liked. This was somewhat ironic, considering that he was not shy when it came to rolling in mud, trekking through bush and sleeping outdoors when called to. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that the grime smeared on his arms and splattered over his cargo pants smelled like (and probably was) shit. Yeah, that was probably it.

Dirk, though having put in just the same amount of effort, was not half as mucky as he, nor as smelly and sweaty, and Jake was distinctly jealous, watching him cover up the ground with the neatly cut bricks of grass he had removed before.

Jake placed his glasses back, wiped his hands on the towel and chucked it unceremoniously onto the bag by Dirk’s tools and other bits and pieces, before popping open the drink bottle with his teeth and swallowing half of it in one go. He hadn’t even realised he had been this parched.

“So.” He watched Dirk straighten up and stomp down the last of the grass blocks with his boots. “You work for my uncle?”

“Sure do. I suppose you wanna know all this stuff about me do you? Jane warned me you were one of those types.”

He struck his forearm over his brow and swaggered forward. Jake swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing obviously, but refused point blank to be shamed for what he just so happened to be. Even if what he happened to be was nosey. With precisely this insolence Jake met Dirk’s uncompromising shades, and without his gaze wavering he passed the bottle over, so the other could have a drink.

“I would be lying if I said I was disinterested, and would truly enjoy hearing more about you. If you feel like you might want to share.”

It was hard to know, how Dirk took this, but it was fair to assume that it had been somewhat positively because he did give a little smirk and relent, drinking directly from the mouthpiece without bothering that Jake had drunk from this just before. Jake remembered being young in the schoolyard, and the strict unspoken rule that if you drank from someone else’s bottle, you were going to get cooties. Apparently, Dirk had never heard of them.

“Well, what do you want to know?”

“How old are you, to start.” Jake took of with confidence, having pondered several questions all day yesterday, buried elbow deep in soil and popping pansies into neat garden rows. “How long have you lived here and how come of all the young capable men in the town my uncle hired you? Not that I’m disputing your abilities, you are certainly good at your job. I just wondered.”

He nodded and offered to pass the bottle back. Jake declined, and he finished the last of the water off instead. It was hard not to notice, the elegant curve of his throat as he swallowed, and discomforted by it Jake looked away.

“I’m twenty five, I’ve lived here all my life, and probably because I’m the best there is. No exceptions. Can’t you fucking tell?”

Jake hesitated, thinking that perhaps he hadn’t instantly taken to Dirk was because he was a _little_ too self confident for him to be likable.

“You aren’t bad, I suppose.” He responded tersely. The corner of Dirk’s lip quirked, and carelessly he jiggled the drink bottle in his hand.

“Looks like I’m going to have to do some convincing? That’s cool. I like a challenge.” He flicked out his pointer and directed it at Jakes face. “But you know you’re going to have to do some convincing too. All you did while you scooped that shit was make disapproving noises and that fuckery ain’t going to fly around these parts. I know your type English, with your rich ass family and your outward bound scholarships. Try falling off the back of that high horse and into a steaming heap of crap and I think we might get on better, okay?” he gave Jake a smile that could have been amiable, and brought a muck covered hand down to pat his shoulder chummily. “So hey, let’s go get a shower, and you can wash all that shit off your delicate skin.”

✞

 

Jake stood in the shower silently fuming, watching the dirty water slide down his legs, sticking the dark hair on his calves to his skin, and spiral into the shining silver drain. Dirk Strider. Fucking Dirk _I am better than all the shit ever_ Strider.

Jake kind of wanted to punch Dirk Strider, and break those stupid shades into a thousand pointy shards, but he decided against it because Jane seemed to think highly of him. Or highly enough to give Jake a blank look when he emerged from the main bathroom, dripping and smelling of honey wheat soap, complaining about that ‘preposterous blonde tosser’ and places he could put his assorted shovels.

“What’s wrong?” she asked him, stopped on her way to the conservatory with a book under her arm and a glass of lemonade in hand. Jake pulled a face and played with the corner of the large white towel he had draped around his neck, to catch the drips from his still damp hair.

“Your farm boy. He’s completely insane, I’m convinced of it.”

Jane smiled knowingly, and tipped up her chin.

“Told you he’s a hard case.” You can hear the smugness in her voice. “But I’m telling you now Jake, he’s worth it. I’ve never met anyone more capable.  

This earned a snort of disbelief, and Jake checked his G-shock, noting that it was almost one thirty. Dirk had told him to reassemble on the porch at two, this gave Jake enough time to grab something to eat from the kitchen, maybe sit down for a bit and nurse the aching small of his back. He tried to jiggle the water out of his ear with his pinky, but that last drop was a resilient bastard.

“Well, he’s certainly capable, I’m not disputing that. But he could do to be a smidgen more…”

“Classy?”

A warning look. “Affable.”

Classy? Was she serious? Why did everyone think that Jake had such high standards?! Jake had grown up eating snails when his mother wasn’t lookingfor gods sake. And yes, actually, he had won an outward bound scholarship or two in his time thank you very much, but how did that make him soft? He was a seasoned adventurer, a hiker, an athlete, a sailor, a rower. God Jake was a good rower. He could have rowed for Australia. He could shoot, he could climb, he could fight… he couldn’t surf for shit but he knew how to make a fire and kill and cook a rabbit. Jake was _rugged_. Jake was a hard guy.

So what if he couldn’t impress a muck tossing hick from this story book town?

“Well, whatever. But Jake, can I make a suggestion?”

Jake swept his hand in a gesture that expressed quite plainly ‘of course you may’. She nodded her head in charming thank, and continued.

“Rather than try and reconcile him with _your_ ideas of what it means to be a man, you should remember that you are in his territory now. You should be focusing on how to reconcile yourself with his.”

✞

After a long afternoon of hacking at the undergrowth around the forest, which he informed Jake shortly was actually the main project for the week, and being scratched almost to hell by a particularly feral blackberry bush, Jake was released. It was almost seven pm, and the evening was thick and golden, the long grass whipping and waving in the light breeze. He and Dirk walked side by side back to the house, Dirk with a large pair of loppers over his shoulder and eating a handful of sweet smelling berries, Jake sulking and nursing the cuts and nicks all over his otherwise smooth forearms. He wanted, quite badly too, some berries, but dignity would not let him ask. Dirk just kept popping them, loping gracefully across the field, his lips stained dark by the juice which streamed down his wrists and fingers and smiling with that particularly irritating twist that suggested he thought himself far the superior man. Indeed Jake, though taller and larger, did feel significantly lesser as he walked beside him, and that only made the anger in his gut more bitter, mixing it with the alcohol of demasculinization and letting it impair his judgement. Perhaps this distaste for him was indeed misjudged, Jake didn’t really care in that moment, telling himself quite firmly that if he _ever_ found himself in a position where he might think that he was warming up to Dirk Strider he would have to punish himself severely. He wasn’t sure how yet, but he would work it out.

“Hey English?”

“What?” Jake gave him a dirty look and rubbed a smudge off his glasses. Dirk didn’t seem to notice, flicking his tongue over his lip and offering his hand.

“Blackberry?”

Jake sneered, but took a few of the sweet little fruits anyway.

Jake was not a man to turn down food, even if it was from the enemy.

“Tomorrow morning we can tackle the Forest again, eh?”

“Whatever.”

“But tomorrow afternoon I have a paid chore to do in town. I could use some help if you need a little extra money?”

Jake never needed extra money. His mother was fucking made of money back in her day, and his uncle threw cash at him every time he dared to leave his bedroom. But after Dirk’s stab at his apparent affluence, he thought he didn’t want to mention this.

“I suppose I could help out if you need it. What’s the job?”

“It’s an electrical fix, a man from the townskirts needs help with his satellite or something, I dunno.” He shrugged easily and having finished his berries wiped his hand on the thigh of his jeans. “I suppose we will find out when we get there.”

“Yeah okay.” Jake decided this doesn’t sound too bad, and sucked the last of the berry juice off his fingers. “While we are in town I can get some stuff from the supermarket anyway. You do have supermarkets, don’t you?”

Dirk snorted, and neglected to qualify this question with an answer.

✞

 

“Get in.”

“I know how to work a car.”

“A, it’s not a car, B, you aren’t working it.” Dirk gave Jake a derisive look and wrenched his door open. “And don’t sit on the toolbox, I don’t want to drive you to the emergency room because you have a screwdriver in your ass.”

“That makes two of us.”

Jake followed his instructions, installing himself in the front seat of the Ute and taking particular care to avoid any ass-tool related mishaps. Dirks means of transportation seemed larger, on the inside, than it did on the out. It smelled very nice too, like dried oranges and cloves, and Jake supposed this came from the dusty looking pomander ball sitting in the cup holder. Like the ones his mother used to make around Christmas time.

He picked it up and gave it an appreciative sniff.

“Nice.” He commented, and Dirk jerked his head, sticking his key in the ignition and turning it, the engine rolling and the cab shuddering to a start.

“Yeah.” He checked his mirrors, switched into gear, and the vehicle rumbled onto the road.

Jake had assumed, as was reasonable, that the two would be travelling the worn, dusty thoroughfare he had travelled with Jane some days prior, and was somewhat intrigued when rather than turn left at the fork underneath the sun flooded avenue of trees they turned right, cutting directly across what looked like it could have been someone’s paddock, along a barely visible overgrown back trail around the other side of the town.

After trundling down this way for about ten minutes, Jake decided that it would not be inappropriate for him to ask ‘where are we going?’

“The guy lives on the other side of the town, its faster if we go around, rather than through it.”

“Oh.” assured, Jake sat back in his seat, studying the broad open scenery skating past his window. In the heat of the afternoon, he could feel half moons of sweat appearing under the arms of his long sleeved t-shirt, the beating light pinkening his face with heat. “May I roll the window?”

“Sure. Be careful, the handles fucked.”

Jake was careful, and soon the window was down and the soft flutter of fresh air breathed into the cab. He felt significantly more comfortable, although he could smell himself sweating and worried that with the blusts of wind perhaps Dirk could smell it too. Goddamnit bodily functions. He held his elbows close to his body, and sunk back into his seat, out of the passage of air flowing in.

“Sorry.” he apologised. “In case you can smell me.”

“I can. S’all good everyone sweats.”

Dirk really did seem un-phaseable. Jake cleared his throat awkwardly, trying not to reflect on how most of the morning had been spent in precisely this state of withheld speech, frustration and a feeling of powerlessness under the poker face of his companion and workmate. Dirk didn’t seem to notice this; he simply carried on driving, not even tilting his chin off the track of the road to acknowledge jakes existence.

They drove on.

The house at which they arrived, when open fields of grass, sunflowers, and canola gave way to paddocks of horses and shacklike rural properties with electricity generating windmills in the back, was pleasant and considerably sprawling, though nowhere near as large as the big house in which Jake dwelt. It had only one storey, and reminded Jake strongly of a log cabin as they hopped out of the Ute and Dirk clomped around the front, which startled Jake because he had been expecting the man to go to the back, and get his equipment out from there.

“Move.” He was directed, and briefly, before realising that Dirk needed to get his tools out from the passenger side, Jake stood in bewilderment, staring deeply into the shadows of those shades.

“Oh. Right sorry. I suppose I will just head up then?”

“Good plan.”

Jamming his hands unsurely in his pockets, Jake edged toward the house sitting pleasantly before them. He noted the creeping ivy on the face, the neatly kept flower gardens, that the low ranch-style fences framing the property were painted a welcoming brown. There were several cats in the windows and bathing lazily on the porch, and for the first time since he had arrived Jake though he saw a heard of cows behind the place, lowing and milling in the rippling grass.

He had almost gotten to the porch steps when Dirk gaited right past him, approaching the door and pressing his finger roughly into the doorbell.

“His names Travis, he’s a nice guy, don’t fuck it up okay, and listen to what I tell you.”

Jake was about to respond indignantly when the door swung open, and he was face with…

Nothing.

He had to drop his sight to about chest height to meet the eyes of their patron, and was honestly somewhat surprised at what he saw.

“Oh, hello Dirk. Um…” his eyebrows pulled and he turned to glance over his shoulder back into his house. “Sorry, I was actually just having lunch with a friend.”

“It’s okay. We can just come in and make a start anyway.” He gave the man a smile, and the man smiled back, and he had a sweet and genuine smile, considering.

Travis was probably in his later thirties, but how many of his years had been spent in a wheelchair were hard to tell. He had a pleasant features, a little snubbish a nose, and  hair that was shorter at the sides and shaggy at the top, combed back to agreeable effect. His fashion sense though, was less than poor. Socks, sandals and a striped cardigan. Not really a great look for anyone, really- but especially not him. And this was coming from cargo-shorts polo-shirt Jake English, of all people.

“Uh… okay. Well the box is up in the attic, you go down the hall and there’s a um… what are they called? Pull chord in the ceiling. When you’re done come through and I will get you some coffee to drink.” He backed his wheelchair out of the doorway to make room for the two younger men to go through. “Oh and thank you for doing this too I should say. It’s good of you. Oh.” he seemed only then to notice Jake for the first time. “Hello.”

“Hi.” Jake greeted him pleasantly and offered his hand. “Jake English, I’m working with Dirk today. I guess.”

Travis stared at his hand in wide eyed wonder.

“English?”

“Yeah, my uncle owns-“

“Shut it chatternuts we have a job to do.” Dirk steered Jake through the door and past their employee. “You can talk all you like to me when we are working.”

Jake pulled a face, making sure to hide if from his companion.

Somehow, he doubted he would be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg so today in class we were watching ‘the kids are okay’ nd omg I was the only one who thought it wasn’t weird that one of the scenes showed two woman having sex while watching gay porn.   
> Sometimes I forget that not everyone understands the tremendous appeal of gay porn. 
> 
> those notes were unrelated. once again, i am sorry.


	5. Chapter five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this update took so long! i was waiting for kurloz to be introduced before i could finish this chapter and then i didnt even end up using his name in it so realluy it was just a giant waste of time. im really sorry. -.-

“Oh my god Dirk this is so _cool_.” Jake should have known that Dirk would not appreciate his opinion, but voiced it anyway when his head popped through the floor, and he saw a real American attic for the first time in his life.

Jake had had an attic when he was living in Australia, sure, but it had been nowhere near as interesting. For one, it hadn’t actually been functional in anyway, it was mostly just a ceiling space stuffed with pink-batts and spider eggs, and no one went up there ever unless there was a leak in the roof. For two, Jake’s family didn’t have all that much stuff or history in the country, even if the attic had been one of those nice real old world charm ones, it would have been emptier than a wineglass post communion.

This attic though was a stunner. The sloping ceiling and old, stained wood gave off the sweet heady scent of age. It was warm, courtesy of a picturebook portal window at the apex of the front wall, and this cast a perfect circle of light onto the dusty floor. Motes swirled in the rope of sunlight, in the velveteen shadows were boxes, chests, paintings covered in sheets, mannequins and bookshelves and _everything_. Jake could have spent years in here, sorting for treasure among the silence, listening to the whisper of ancient secrets from dawn to cosy dusk.

“What?” Dirk was second up the ladder, dropping his tool kit on the floor and dragging himself through the hole. “Jesus tapdancing Christ it’s hot up here.” He removed his shades briefly to rub sweat off his brow, and Jake was able to see his closed eyes for a moment, before he replaced them and (assumably) reopened his eyes. “What are you flipping over now?”

“This.” Jake gestured generally to the attic, walking in circles and spinning slowly as he went, almost colliding with a sheet covered arm chair. “It’s like the attic in the ‘Chronicles of Narnia’ or something… isn’t there an attic in that?”

Dirk gave him a bland look.

“I wouldn’t know. What are the ‘Chronicles of Namibia’?”

“ _Narnia,_ oh my god they are books. Don’t you know them?” Jake laughed a little and stopped walking, half in the ray of light raining through the old goldstained glass. “There were a couple of movies too. Caspian… lion witch wardrobe…”

“Ohhhhh.” Dirk’s expression changed from its usual blank and Jake could have hollered in triumph. “Yeah I know those. Kids stories. And what are you talking about there is no attic in them.”

Indignant, Jake responded “Attic or no they are timeless classics. Geeze.”

“Uh huh. Next you will be telling me that ‘the Matrix’ is a timeless classic too.”

Jake decided that having been dismissed so subtly he would _probably_ be wiser to refrain from any impromptu performances of his well memorised and rehearsed grade ten speech: ‘101 reasons why Neo is my hero’.

Dirk took a moment to regard the attic thoughtfully.

“Okay English, I need your help.” He pointed above his head, to a thick black cable pinned to the ceiling beam. “See that cable up there? See where it goes?”

Jake followed the direction of his finger, and the cable which pursued the beam and then turned a sharp left, down the one side of the roof towards a pile of sheeted junk at the back corner.

“Sure do.”

“Right, I need you to move that junk for me, so I can get to the box.”

Jake frowned and stepped toward the stuff.

“Are you sure we should be shifting other people’s possessions.”

“Well, we don’t have much choice, do we?”

Jake stared at the other man blankly for a moment, thinking it strangely exotic that his paleness glowed in the attic gloom.

“Yeah, okay.” he shrugged and turned back to the pile, prepared to get his muscle on. “Can you give me a hand?”

Though the job was relatively minor, Jake understood that it was teamwork that would get it done faster.

✞

 

“You okay?” Dirk asked him, not looking up from the complicated wiring he was performing as Jake sat back and hacked his lungs into a balled fist.

“Sure.” Came the wheezy response. “I’m fine. Asthma, that’s all.”

“Don’t have an inhaler?” Dirk reached for a pair of wire cutters and stripped a length of cable of its casing.

“N-no.” Jake thumped his hand on his chest, checking to see if the fit had passed. He should have thought that the dust, from lifting chests and a particularly antique armchair, would irritate his breathing, but it had been so long since his last attack that sometimes he forgot completely he even had them. Well, now he had been reminded, and he made a mental note not to forget again. Although he was pretty sure Dirk would not let him. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t be dying English, I don’t want to drag you down those steps and I sure as hell don’t want to explain that to your uncle. Here.” He passed Jake a strange thing, that looked like a test-tube but Jake knew for context that it was most likely some piece of electrical contraption, and Jake took it, sinking into the seat of the aforementioned armchair and watching Dirk crouched in the corner, tinkering in that odd little box. It was fascinating to watch, the confident way Dirk seemed to tap around, prod cables and ticking buttons. Veiny wires poured out of the bottom of the powerbox, red and blue and yellow and black and looping in a tangled slinky of probably fatal voltage, and he seemed to know his way around every one. The satellite line, which he was supposed to be installing, was currently sticking out of a hole drilled into the wall, and one by one Dirk was connecting frayed copper ends to frayed copper ends, corresponding colours, conductors, amps…

Jake bit his lip, discomforted to observe this bare handed tinkering. What if Dirk got zapped or something? What if he joined a wire wrong?

“Um, Dirk, be careful, eh?” he leant forward in the chair, trying to sound kind of like he didn’t care, but ending up sounding like some kind of naggy mothering type. He realised after he had said it, that Dirk probably wouldn’t appreciate his input.

“Careful? Fucking hell English do you think I’m stupid?” he paused his work to give Jake what was probably a condescending look, its hard to see behind those shades. “The main power switch is off, I checked before I started.”

“… Oh.”

Well Jake felt really stupid now. Next time he felt like his companions wellbeing might be in danger, he pledged to say nothing and simply let the prick die.

Dirk sighed, a little dramatically which only made Jake feel dumber, and returned to his work.

“Go look in some boxes or something.” He spoke with an imperative tone Jake didn’t like but couldn’t help feel compelled to obey. “I’ll be finished in a few minutes anyway.”

“Can’t I help?”

“You shifted the shit out of the way, that’s all I really needed you for.” He paused his working to reach for a roll of insulating tape. “Hulk muscles are useful sometimes, lesson learned and I appreciate it. Now go away you are distracting me.”

Jake didn’t know if he should be insulted by this, or not. Had Dirk just compared him to the hulk? He was _pretty_ sure he had.

Ew. Okay then.

Unimpressed, Jake stood up and sniffed, catching a whiff of old dust and coughing shallowly. His chest was still a little tight; perhaps he should avoid the denser dust deposits and focus instead on the cleaner, more open parts of the room. Like that coffee table over there, which looked like it had only been up here maybe ten years, and that box of books or something under it.

Jake wandered over and crouched down, the butt-seam of his pants creaking with the unusual shift in tension. The box was only cardboard, and had the words ‘BONITA BANANAS’ on the side, in faded commercial print. Inside, a fine layer of grey sediment, which he avoided carefully, covered everything. He pulled out the first item in the box and set it on the table.

It didn’t occur to him once that Dirk had been facetious in telling him to do so, and that going through other peoples boxes in their attics was the height of rude. Jake wasn’t really the world champion at thinking things through, obviously.

It was a photo album.

Of course it was a photo album, places like this simple _leaked_ photo albums. It was so quintessential that Jake almost laughed aloud, flipping it open and reading the inscription penned on the first page.

_Dearest Karmen,  
I hope this gift has found you well, I thought it would be perfect, considering how much you enjoy such sentiments. _

_Love N._

Jake didn’t know who Karmen was, but he thought that he would definitely like to look at their photos.

The album was predictably filled with black and white shots, some of them Jake immediately recognised as having been taken in the town itself. The buildings hadn’t changed much between now and then, still the same painted wood, still the same elegant windows and porches. The people, though, they had. Predominantly portraits, or photos taken in long exposures from a tripod in a street, the images were unmoving and primitive, but between their two subjects they told a very concise story of a town that stayed the same, and people who had long since grown out of the corsets, bustles, and frills of a long gone era. Well, to a point. Jake recalled the dresses and jewellery that had adorned the women at the club called heaven, and checked himself. Perhaps, for novelty’s sake, it would not be inappropriate to don such old fashioned threads in this day and age.

Predominantly, the stars of the book were unfamiliar woman, although Jake did note two of three men featuring on occasion, one of whom there was only one photo, and which captured Jake’s attention immediately.

“Erm, Dirk?”

There came a grunt, from the other side of the room, which indicated that Jake had Dirk’s ear.

“There’s a man in this album, you should come and look, he is almost your exact doppelganger and it’s quite perplexing.” He looked up from the album and grinned, looking very excited about such a small image. Dirk too, raised his eyes from his work and regarded the man from across the empty, sun roped space between them.

“What does he look like?” he asked flatly. Jake smiled wider and held up the album to show.

“He’s in old clothes, naturally, but he’s blonde and has the same face as you. Even the darling freckles.”

Jake, being Jake, saw no problem in addressing anything on the body of someone he didn’t particularly care for as ‘darling’, it was quite a neutral word for a boy who had grown up using romanticised words like ‘beautiful’, ‘breathtaking’ and ‘sheila’ to deign qualities of an appealing or feminine nature. Dirk, however, was somewhat offended to be described like this.

“My freckles are not ‘darling’.” He snapped, turning back to his work. “God almighty English you shouldn’t even be going through other peoples shit. Put the album away.”

“But-“

“I said put. The album. Away. Jake.”

Jake stared at him for a moment longer, bottom lip thrust forward in a small pout. Could he really challenge the man who wore his shades even in an attic and looked like he could quite easily and with little conscience kick a man bigger than he in the ballsack for daring to answer back?

Jake relented, dropping the album back in the box with a thump.

“What does it matter?” he grumbled, slopping toward Dirk, who had returned to fixing whatever it was he was fixing. “It’s not like the gentleman occupant is likely to come up here to get any of this stuff anytime soon. And you were the one who said I could!”

“It doesn’t matter if the ‘gentleman occupant’ wants to come up here or not, point is, its rude. If you didn’t have the initiative to figure out that I was in no way serious the god help you. Shut up and hold this for me.” He thrust Jake a pair of pliers and Jake huffed, accepting them.

They completed the rest of the job in silence.

 

✞

 

Upon going downstairs Jake was absolutely overjoyed that the man they were working for had fixed up a pot of tea and a plate of chocolate biscuits for them, and had them waiting patiently beside the fruitbowl on the kitchen table. He had a nice kitchen, painted a cheerful yellow and filled with pots of herbs and wine in racks, and in the corner next to an out-of-season radiator heater a big floppy beagle dog slept in a cosy wicker basket. There were books _everywhere_ , which seemed odd for a kitchen but apparently made perfect sense to Travis and his ‘guest’ who turned out to be, much to Jake’s surprise, Vicar Gabby from the church in the town. He was not wearing his regal churchly clothes today; rather he had on a pair of old jeans and a button up plaid shirt, and the sleeves were rolled rebelliously to describe a canvas of extremely unexpected tattoos. He did smile though, when Jake and Dirk came into the kitchen, revealing a mouthful of precise white teeth, and _that_ was somewhat intimidating. Jake shivered, and without even realising it he shrunk back, letting dirk talk forward.

“It’s done.” Dirk announced, taking a seat at the table without being invited, as though he had been here before. Jake spared a moment to consider that given the state of Travis, this was probably the case. “Jake sit down. Have something to drink.”

For all intents and purposes, he completely ignored the vicar.

“Oh.” Travis halted his probably church related discussion with Gabriel and closed the hefty book he had set in front of him (a bible). “Really? Thanks for that I um, I really needed that done. Now how much did I say I owed you?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Dirk assured him calmly. “However much you want to pay is fine.” He leaned across the table and took a chocolate biscuit, before Jake (who had sat down, immediately poured himself tea into a cup beside the pot and taken three) could demolish the rest. Jake thought this was very decent of him (the easiness about payment, not the biscuit taking), and when Travis turned to him to ask what money he wanted, he swallowed his mouthful and said “It’s okay, I don’t need anything.”

And Gabby Makara looked on with that predatory smile in place, his hand curled around his teacup, his uncommon eyes seeming with consideration.

“Such excellent young brothers.” He commented, “Working with the lords great grace in their hearts.”

And even through his glasses Jake could see that Dirk gave him a look of utter disdain for this.

Jake, who was never particularly good at reading the atmosphere, felt Dirk’s aura darken, and he made promptly to take another biscuit, before Dirk decided he wanted no more time spent in the company of this man and left.

It was the vicar, though, who left first.

With his statement he too closed his bible, and returned his attention to Travis who honestly, looked almost as though he could have been his father.

“I suppose I had best be off.” He ambled, looping a curl of black hair behind his ear with that oddly tattooed arm. “Same time tomorrow?”

“Um, yes. Sure.” Travis gave him a little smile, which Jake was surprised to note actually had a feeling of actual _affection_ in it, and allowed the other man to reach forward and touch his forehead.

“Bless you brother.”

“Thank you.”

Jake watched with arched eyebrows as this transpired, and surly, Dirk poured himself a cup of tea.

Although Jake had grown up in a religious community, he had never before been in the presence of a person who really seemed so possessed with their beliefs. Although there was absolutely no sign on his head that informed him Gabriel Makara was one of the happy-clappy born-again fundamentalist sorts, the truth of this status was undeniable. He hadn’t noticed it so much in the church, surrounded by hundreds of townsfolk, but when it was only the four of them in such a small place it was obvious. It surrounded him, curled off him; it was like he was stoned on it.

Dirk waited until the man had left, before he addressed Travis.

“I don’t know how you stand that man.” He spoke shortly, and Travis tipped his head, smiling peacefully.

“Gabriel is sweet.”

“He’s insane.”

“He’s like child at heart.” Travis turned his doe eyes to Dirk and examined him. “I like him.”

Jake heard Dirk snort derisively and decided he would ask him to explain some more later.

 

✞

 

“I’ve got to go into town.” Jake was told as the two of them hopped back into the ute. “I need to pick some stuff up from the hardware store. Do you want to come or shall I drop you off at the house.”

“No, I might accompany you I think.” Jake spotted his opportunity as he buckled himself into the seat. Hell it was hot in the cabin. Since the car had been parked in the sun, the heat had all but baked the interior, making the cracked vinyl of the seats stress under their weight and the back sear skin through cotton tee-shirts. “Besides, I thought you might be able to enlighten me about a particular topic of interest.”

“If you want enlightenment, go to fucking Gabriel Makara.” Dirk scoffed, turning the key in the ignition. “Stupid dopey cunt he is.”

Jake was aghast.

“Dirk!” he remarked, having never heard such a word used so lightly before. His mother had always been quite against that particular one, though it was not uncommon around his hometown Jake still managed to find in himself a sense of revulsion at the harsh crudeness of it, the taboo nature, and the force of passion that backed it. “Guard your tongue!”

Dirk crinkled his nose and shifted the vehicle into reverse.

“What do you want?” he ignored Jake’s reprimand and headed down the drive. Jake cleared his throat importantly and tried to haul himself over that particular turn of conversation.

“Well, oddly enough, the questions I wanted to ask do pertain to vicar Makara. If you want to oblige answers, of course.”

Dirk jerked his chin up.

“Sure.” He replied firmly. “Shoot. You will get truer answers out of me than you will from anyone else in this fuckin’ town.”

Jake was momentarily silenced by Dirk’s apparent passion for this topic.

Though he had not known the other man long, he had not yet found a subject or an action that ever seemed to affect him further than earning a dirty or condescending look. Usually, Dirk seemed perfectly level headed, perfectly firm and sturdy and composed. It was strange and somewhat intimidating to see him fiery, his lips turned down in a clearly unhappy frown, his knuckles on the steering wheel white as off-season snow.

Jake was _almost_ sorry he had asked, not at all sure if he wanted to know, now. Especially if Dirk was going to chew his ear off.

“You and him… you dislike each other?”

You know, just to get the obvious out of the way.

“Well,” Dirk answered, his voice still strung in that characteristic timbre that meant he was irate, “he may like me, I don’t know, and to be honest I do not fucking care. I _hate_ him. He is the worst thing to ever happen to this town I swear.”

Dirk swung onto the road and Jake nodded, reaching for the roller to down the window at Dirk’s nod of approval.

“But… why though? What did he ever do to you?”

“Lots of little things mostly. He and my brother despise each other.”

“You have a brother?” Jake exclaimed, before realising that was off topic. Also, why should he be so surprised Dirk had a brother? Dirk was entitled to however many siblings he liked. Just because Dirk came off as a man with the arrogance and capability of an only child didn’t necessarily mean he was.

“Yes. Anyway. Him and my brother had issues, especially when they were younger. Gabby left town for a while, and let me assure you, when he left he was about as far from a religious nut as it is possible to _be_. But then he came back and since he has, things have been getting really bad. He stamped down on things like drinking pretty hard and with no reason other than he can, and he is bringing in all these new rules which the people at the church just eat up because religion is the only thing they have ever known. He’s a complete hypocrite too, I’ve never met anyone that hard into dope. And I’m pretty sure he could kill a man if that man was dumb enough to get on his bad side.”

“… Do you think?”

“I _know_. He’s fucking psychopath. His son got sent to a madhouse, and I would bet my truck that it’s genetic.”

Jakes jaw dropped.

“ _A madhouse_? Like, a mental hospital? Honestly? How do you know that?!”

Dirk shrugged.

“I know everything that happens in this town, English. I know people, and in my profession, you hear a lot more than you’re ever supposed to.”

Jake didn’t think that yard-boy and general handy man counted as a ‘profession’, but he wasn’t going to argue. He was swiftly learning that one of the most important rules of dealing with Dirk Strider is to simply nod and accept what he told you.

Besides, he hated to admit it but he sort of respected Dirk’s forward, almost aggressive outspokenness. Although he never mastered the trait himself, it certainly reminded him of home.

✞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I JUST SHAT BRICKS DID ANYONE ELSE KNOW THERE WAS A SONG CALLED ‘CLUB CALLED HEAVEN’? BECAUSE I DIDN’T IT’S GREAT IT’S NOT EVEN RELATED BUT WOW AWESOME TUNES GUYS WOW.  
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ffJbG4bMa54
> 
> also wowow am i stupid opr waht i uploaded this like two weeks ago but it was only posted as a draft omfg i am so sorry.

Jake spent the drive into the town picking at his fingernails and thinking. About lots of jumbled things mostly, but also about nothing in particular. The town, the people, Dirk, and sometimes the girl he had seen in Club Heaven. Though she surfaced in his mind on only odd occasions, seemingly unrelated to anything else, just thinking about her still made his stomach twist and his heartbeat scamper like a puppy in long grass. Seeing her again was a ghostly thought that had been at the back of his mind for a while, and it had only just flickered to the surface when Dirk elected to open his mouth again, and Jake had to stow it away.

“So this afternoon. What was it you wanted to do?”

“Oh, just go to the supermarket I think. I’m well weary of all these home-baked victuals Jane forces upon me.”

Dirk actually quirked the corner of his lip up at this, and Jake was so startled he tore a tiny sliver of skin off the corner of his thumbnail by accident. It hurt like a complete _bitch_.

“Jane makes nice food.”

“I never said it wasn’t delightful, I simply said that I was tiring of it.”

“Hm…” Dirk switched on the wipers to dust the powdery residue off the windscreen. The dirt back roads he insisted on driving tended to be the sort that clouded in their wake, and although rattling over potholes was an ignorable obstacle on their journey, obstructed vision was not. “Too much of a good thing is still a good thing.”

Jake arched his eyebrows and turned back to the landscape rolling by the window. The familiar rustling trees were beginning to thin by now, becoming small paddocks with crops flourishing in them, becoming farm houses and finally low and beautifully picture-book cottages with floral hedges, and wind chimes hanging from verandas.

He wasn’t going to be taking Dirk's word for that.

✞

 

 Jake had never been to the hardware store here, and honestly he was expecting something large and expansive, like Bunnings, in the heart of the town. One would think him schooled him in ‘not having high expectations’ by now, but still he was surprised when Dirk turned the vehicle off the main-road a little before the central region, and headed down a suburban street that gave the place a feeling of size and three dimensional presence it hadn’t had before.

Dirk stopped driving outside of a seemingly inconspicuous house, one that looked like maybe it was an at-home art store for some housewife, and pulled the key out of the ignition.

“This is the place,” Dirk told him. “The supermarket is around that corner up there. You can walk right?”

“Indeed I can?” Jake started in confusion at the small house, and noticed for the first time that there was in fact a sign on the fence boasting ‘Finest handmade tools and Equestrian Equipment.’ “Are you requesting I walk and we re-unite at a later time or…?”

“You walk. I won’t be long, maybe half an hour? And you can get up and buy your beer or talcum powder or whatever shit it is you need, but _please_ be on time. I’m running hells of a tight schedule and I’m really not in the mood to instigate a manhunt if you go AWOL.”

Jake tisked and unbelted himself.

“Do you really have that little faith in me, chap?”

“You are not exactly cerebral, English. Now get going.” Dirk leant over to pull open the glove compartment and rummaged around in what looked like a small pit of CDs, a very unusual looking plush toy, a sewing kit and a few screwdrivers, to find the crumpled brown envelope he kept his cash in. It looked to Jake a bit like a pitiful wad, but then again Jake was used to wallets bursting at the seams with small brightly coloured bills. Perhaps Dirk kept most of his money in hundreds?

Or apparently not. American money, he thought as he got out of the car and stepped onto the quiet road, is really misleading. It is all the same size, all the same colour… in honesty, he thought it looked a little silly. Watching Dirk rifle through the small bills in his envelope, extracting the fives and leaving the ones behind (why even _have_ a note for one dollar), was somewhat painful. He wondered if maybe he really was just spoiled, and immediately felt guilty. Dirk folded the bills and slid them into his pocket, before hopping out of the chassis of the vehicle himself and slamming the door closed. Jake shut his with a weak armed push, and edged away, toward the corner at the end of the street Dirk had identified.

“That corner?” he asked unsurely, and Dirk nodded.

“That corner.”

“Uh, okay. Smashing. See you in a tick?”

“See you in a ‘tick’.”

Jake gave him one last hesitant look, before heading in that general direction. He would never admit it, but for some reason the idea of Dirk simply abandoning him kept occurring, and though he _knew_ no decent human being would do that, he also knew that Dirk was not a patient man. What if Jake got lost? It was only around the corner, sure, but Jake’s sense of direction wasn’t really the sort of thing to be famed. Except in the case of ‘really dire traits in any given explorer-slash-adventurer’.

He would have really felt more comfortable about the whole thing if Dirk had come with him.

As Jake made his way down the street he tried to distract himself from the feelings of hurt and worry that Dirk’s flippant abandonment had instilled in him by studying the houses that he passed, the tar seal on the road, and the pattern of peachy silver that spilled across the horizon. The night was still distant, yet the evenings in this part of the world seemed to start early and draw on endlessly, until at least ten pm. It was not hugely late right now, but already the flaming mercury of twilight was bleeding into the horizon line and shining in a direct and purposeful cone down the road. The undersides of front yard trees flickered and trembled, gold one moment and daylight green the next, as the afternoon battled the dusk and managed to only just keep it at bay. Jake knew that when he had been to the supermarket though, and walked back to meet Dirk, he would be doing so through champagne coloured air, the last of the heat fading from the pavers underfoot.

Jake had indeed become accustomed to the beauty of his new home, but sometimes still, the place amazed him.

He rounded the corner of the street and began heading downwards, hoping that the supermarket wasn’t too far, and that he would recognise it as being a supermarket rather than just a random house on the street. He needn’t have worried, not far down from the corner was a building that although miniscule couldn’t be mistaken for anything _other_ than a supermarket, a few cars settled in the carpark outside, a young man with a basket of carnations and collection bucket by the trolleys. Jake smiled at him when he passed, and the youth grinned back in a childish manner.

“Do you want to make a donation?”

“Apologies, my dear fellow. I only have eftpos.”

The boys face fell significantly, and Jake felt so bad he almost gave him his card and PIN, but he couldn’t go around doing that, could he? No, he would go into the shop, buy what he needed, and when he paid he would get a few extra dollars out to buy a flower. That seemed like a good plan.

And so, the shopping began.

✞

 

Jake had forgotten how much he had missed shitty, mass produced food.

Living with a cousin passionate about baking and a house catered by a top notch cook, Jake had certainly not be _starved_ during his stay at the house, but observing the way he snatched bag after bag of salt and vinegar chips and three blocks of dark chocolate into his basket, one certainly wouldn’t know it. As he had told Dirk, the novelty of a million fine meals was wearing thin, and frankly the more unnecessary shit he could consume as of now to compensate the better. He was tempted to buy a jar of pre-mixed PBJ, because he had never seen anything of the sort before and wanted to try it, but after doing some quick calculations and realising that there was no way he would ever be able to eat it and make it to the closest hospital in time to save his life, he decided against. Curse his flagrant nut allergies. Curse them to hell.

He got a box of pop tarts and a two pack of chapstick instead, before making his way down the last of five small aisles of stock toward the single lineless checkout. He passed by a few familiar faces during his wanderings, and he supposed that most of them would have been from church, but no one stopped him to say hello or gave him more than a polite smiles as he passed. For the first time since his arrival, Jake felt an acute stab of loneliness. He used to be a fairly social guy, and he was accustomed to having plenty of friends with similar interests to waste time with. What has he got and what has he only had since he got to the place? His cousin, her friend who he didn’t really know well enough to count as a companion, and a brisk unpleasant handyman who wanted little or nothing to do with him whatsoever. What a sad state of being in which to find ones self. As Jake absently loaded his purchases onto the counter, he made a mental note to try harder in his making of friends. Starting with whoever this fellow is serving him.

“Good evening.” Jake greeted him, setting the basket down in the rack by the checkout atop three others and digging in his pocket for his eftops card. “I trust you are well?”

The checkout operator, a tall man with dark auburn hair and freckles, seemed startled to be spoken to. He hesitated in his scanning, packet of crisps in his hand, and studied Jake almost suspiciously with feline brown eyes.

“I don’t believe I have any right to complain of my wellness.” He responded, and Jake thought he had never heard a person respond to a simple question quite like _that_ before, but he didn’t exactly find it disagreeable.

“Well me neither. Aren’t we just a Jim-Dandy pair?”

The checkout operator looked at him as though he had just said something particularly and most personally offensive.

“You do realise that the implications of the term ‘dandy’, with particular emphasis on its double meaning, could be called rude or inappropriate in the context of the impersonal interaction we are currently engaged in. Consider next time that there may be a chance the person you address identifies as, knows someone who identifies as, or is triggered by the lifestyle-specific term, and check yourself next time before you address a near stranger so tactlessly.”

Jake stared at the man as though he had never seen a person with a nose on his face before, and with a neat, superior sort of flair he packed Jakes purchases into a single plastic bag and passed them over.

“That comes to ten dollars forty five after tax. Will you be paying by cash or eftpos?”

Jake decided that perhaps he didn’t want to make friends after all.

He was too scared to ask the man for change to give the carnation boy, and so he left with his groceries in hand, still trying to get his head around the words that had just been thrown at him.

Perhaps Jane had been correct in telling him that the people in this town weren’t right. He was prepared to wager London to a turnip that whoever the _hell_ that was that had just served him, he was probably insane.

✞

Jake checked his G-shock, feeling quite happy with himself when he saw that it had only been twenty minutes since he and Dirk had parted ways, and he had another ten minutes or so to saunter his way back to the hardware house and his ride. He wondered fleetingly if perhaps he should go back inside, and buy Dirk something as a gesture of passive aggression. Something that looked like it was supposed to be nice, but was actually a big fat ‘and fuck you too, sir’. Something like a Cherry Ripe, which Jake suspected no-one really liked and existed only for this purpose, or a small packet of candy corn.

But then he remembered the testy checkout operator and decided against it. Besides, he was in his twenties; much too old for childish retribution and immature shenanigans. He was Jake English, a gentleman, and frankly he couldn’t believe he was letting Dirk’s severity get to him that much. Why couldn’t he shake the short mannered caretaker from his mind?

With a dismissive sigh he headed down the street in the direction he was quite sure he came from, one hand in his pocket, and a jaunty tune hummed at the back of his throat to distract him.

✞

Jake was lost.

He was despairingly, hopelessly lost.

It would have been ridiculously funny, if it hadn’t been so sad.

The situation he found himself in fifteen minutes later, walking up and down hopelessly on a grid of almost identical streets, would probably have been avoidable if he had paid attention to how many intersections he had passed on his way to the supermarket, rather than simply turning down the first one he came to and not realising he had taken the wrong turn until he had passed by at least three more. He couldn’t be sure. The street on which he stood now also hosted an inconvenient amount of four way intersections, and no vehicle even _remotely_ resembling Dirk’s. Everyone here seemed to park in their driveways anyway, the streets naked save for the shadows of the occasional overarching bird. Absolutely humiliated by this point Jake had to stop his pointless wandering and take a deep breath, before admitting the honest truth outloud.

“I seem to have misplaced myself.”

This was a big deal for Jake, who was usually a rather chronic sufferer of ‘the mans’: that curious state of mind that dictated he should never admit to his misjudgements nor ask for any direction or help. He was considering doing both at the moment, barely holding down the sense of helpless panic staticing at the edges of his thoughts.

_What if Dirk departed without me?_

_How am I supposed to get my jolly way home?!_

Frantic, standing outside a lovely cottage with clutched closed sunflowers in the flowerbeds behind the picket fence, Jake patted his pockets for his cellphone. Even though he didn’t have Dirk’s number, he could call his uncle or cousin and get them to pick him up. Right?

Wrong. Jake had left his phone in Dirk’s cup holder, and remembering this he let out a long whine of despair, turning on his heal and striding as long and fast as he could back in the direction he originated, neck craning to check each street he passed was not the street he had came from.

It was impossible to tell. Horribly impossible to tell.

Dirk had been right in stating that Jake wasn’t cerebral.

Jake was a hunter, and a survivalist; he could fight and shoot and give him a can of beans and a stick he could live for days in the wild, but place him in the heart of a peaceful, tidy little town where the streets were organised and each hedge trimmed to precisely the same pattern, he was about as likely to survive as a one legged gopher on a freeway.

That is to say, he was not at all likely to endure. Unless he found something, _anything_ familiar by which he could navigate his way back to Dirk’s Ute and the main road, that is. God, _why_ hadn’t he paid more attention? Why? Was he an ignoramus? Apparently so. Oh _curses_.

Feeling pretty much useless, a little like a child about to burst into tears because he lost his mother, Jake scuffed the pavement in seeming circles, his heart beginning to scamper despite the fact he _knew_ he wasn’t going to die out here. It was a settled small town, he should have really felt better here than he did in the great outdoors, and yet somehow the press of unknown houses either side of him was beginning to fill his mind with pointless panic. His bag of foodstuffs became a liability, and as he walked he switched it from one hand to the other. Halfway down a street he was _positive_ he had never been on before he faltered, coming to a complete stop, trying to calm himself in the dropping evening. Leaves, wind, and nothing else. Just silence and abandonment. Where were all the people anyway? What community, anywhere, stayed inside on such a beautiful evening as this? It wasn’t even slightly chilly yet.

Jake sighed and despite the warmth hooked his arm through the handles on his bag and wrapped himself in a semi-comforting hug. He decided that the only way he was going to get home now was walking; according to his watch Dirk would have left half an hour ago. If he could find the main road within twenty or so minutes, he would probably be able to get home before his uncle got worried.

 

✞

 

In the end, he chose a the direction opposite to which the sun was setting, in the hopes that he might at some stage come across the road home or walk off the edge of the earth, whichever came first. He distinctly remembered walking _toward_ the sunset on his way to the supermarket, so he figured the opposite direction would be the best bet, and sure enough, after about ten minutes of shuffling hangdog toward his fate, he felt his heart bounce in recognition; that mailbox up there seemed _very_ familiar…

No, no, false alarm.

Jake heaved a sigh and trekked on, thinking he saw a break in the line of houses up ahead that seemed larger than the break of some side streets, and absently he crossed the road, heading toward it and hoping that maybe it would provide some sort of swivel point for future or present reference.

He was actually daydreaming, sulking a little and hoping Dirk wouldn’t be _too_ pissed off at him, when he noticed something unusual about this street compared to all the others he had passed down that afternoon; that is to say, there appeared to be cars parked here, on the road, and most of them seemed to be conglomerated around a single house a block or so down. He frowned and craned his neck, walking on his tip toes briefly to boost his vision, and couldn’t see anything _too_ remarkable about the building. The streets were still dead silent, so in terms of use this observation was purposeless, but all the same it seemed somewhat interesting to Jake.

And then with the stunning clarity of a hefty rock through a dirty window, he realised that he was walking the side of the road opposite the Starbucks Jane had taken him to last Saturday, and a wave of relief so intense he almost fell over flooded him. Of course, it was too late to expect the place to be open now, and indeed the windows seemed quiet and locked, but seeing it Jake felt his breast swell with confidence and that cocky self assuredness that seems prevalent in stubborn men proving themselves right. A small spring of direction entered his step, because he knew where he was going now. Just around that corner up ahead, and BAM! Main road and highway _home_.

Or… maybe not.

Jake hesitated in his certain walk, his mind registering why all those cars were parked outside that particular house. That house that he recognised, with the blinds and the neat sign in the window that said ‘open’.

Club Heaven.

He had somehow gravitated toward Club Heaven without meaning to, as all men in the small town were liable to do once in a while, and upon finding himself outside, mere metres away from his goal and his passage out of town, he was beginning to second guess his plan.

It couldn’t hurt to just… pop in and grab a tall frosty one would it? He could use one, after the whole ‘getting lost’ debacle. And then another thought occurred to one. One a _lot_ more tempting. In fact it was this thought and this thought alone that convinced him entirely to be quickening his pace toward the house, and hurrying up those stairs. Now he was closer, he could hear the faint sound of music and livelihood from inside, and he cursed himself for only having eftpos because everyone knows that one should _never_ go to a strip club without small bills. What else was he supposed to pay the strippers in? He thought briefly and somewhat ridiculously of Dirk’s little packet of one and five dollar notes and shook his head. Dirk didn’t seem like the sort of guy to ever want to come to a hooker bar, even if he was well equipped to purchase a little attention from the ladies. He had fair amount of little bills in that packet anyway; there would most likely be significantly less if he was to purchase such luxuries.

Jake decided that he would just have to take some cash out at the bar. Not that he wanted a dance or anything! Just… you know, to be polite.

If Jake was going to be honest, he had never actually received a striptease of any sort before. Excusing the many times at Outward Bound he had needed to share a single shower nozzle with three other men. The thought of actually having one (a striptease, not a hairy naked OB boy) made him distinctly nervous, and as he set his hand on the door handle, pushed down and edged his way inside, he almost second guessed his decision to even _enter_ , but then decided no. He had to see if she was there, and so long as he just got a drink and didn’t touch he would be fine. He really would be wasting an opportunity, if he just brushed aside the possibility of stealing a glimpse of that stunner one more time.

Tonight, the place was considerably different to how it had been on his very first visit. For one, there was a lady sitting by the door in a coat check, and Jake recognised her immediately as the one with the sharp look and greying hair. He could hear music from the room behind the saloon doors already, the hum of an audience lingered in the foyer, the thrill of something _happening_ was thick in the air, and overall it was miles different to the tranquillity of the street he had just been on. Jackets and scarves hung from hooks on the wall, and self-conscious Jake glanced at his bag of groceries, wondering if he had to hand them over at the door.

“Good evening.” the woman greeted him, and he dragged his lip under a tooth, more conflicted than he probably needed to be given the situation. She didn’t look anywhere near prepared to boot him out simply because he had a bag of food in his hand.

“Greetings to you. Um, may I?” he indicated to the door and the woman nodded.

“Have you got anything you wanted to sign in? Also, it is important that you please show me your ID.”

Jakes face fell significantly.

“… Do you perchance take ATM cards?”

The woman gave him a tight smile, her beautifully painted lips curving but sparing only a professional warmth.

“No, I am afraid not my dear boy.”

There was a long, horrifying moment during which Jake thought he was going to have to leave. All his hopes for the evening crashed down around his head, and he could have had a tanty about it but he withheld simply because he thought _that_ would only strengthen the woman’s perception of him being underage. How could anyone mistake him for underage? He had stubble from not shaving for two days for god’s sake. And arms like small trees.

Saving grace came in the form of a woman sweeping down the stairs; she looked about the same age as the lady sitting at the coat check, but unlike her she seemed significantly more casual. She was wearing a pencil skirt and pretty blouse, her neat blonde bob held back by a black headband, and apparently the heavily sequined skirt she was carrying was her reason for descending the stairs.

“Kaye dearest this measurement between the cups is too small for the rosettes, perhaps should I-oh. My. Hello.”

She stopped partway down the staircase, feline eyes wide, and stared at Jake like he may have just been a particularly alien species.

“… Good day.” Jake replied smoothly, and the lady looked between the woman at the check (Kaye?) and him with a sort of wide eyed wonderment on her face.

“Oh dear. I’m sorry I didn’t realise you were serving someone…”

“Not a problem, really. Come here and let me see.”

The lady dropped down the last few stairs, still not taking her eyes off Jake’s face (which made him _very_ uncomfortable) and passed ‘Kaye’ the item she was holding.

“See the space isn’t large enough, I considered making it bigger however-“

“It does not matter. Just leave it be thank you.” Kaye gave the woman a much warmer smile, the sort an elderly sort of person might give someone they care for deeply, and returned her attention to Jake. “But as for you sir. I’m afraid, no ID, no service.”

“But, I was in here just the other day, don’t you recall? It was Last Saturday I believe. I was in the company of a girl, short and really quite lovely…”

Kaye shook her head sadly.

“I am afraid I don’t remember. So many people pass through here every day I can hardly be expected to keep track of the-“

She was interrupted by a polite throat clearing, courtesy of the lady with the dress to be sewn, and turned her head when this woman placed a hand delicate with age and nature on her shoulder.

“Sorry, but I have to ask. Are you by any chance Jade’s son?”

Jake straightened in his stance immediately and noting a pale shadow of recognition in the question he nodded his head. He didn’t know this woman, nor how she might have known his mother, but he wasn’t going to pass up something that might just see him into the main room of the place.

“Yes I am indeed. Jake English, pleased to meet you.”

He jammed out his hand, plastic bag swinging lamely by his side, and the woman smiled kindly and took it.

“Pleased to meet you too. Oh wow… I had certainly heard you were in town, but I never thought you would come by here. Look at you, you look just like her. Doesn’t he look like her?”

Kaye lifted her eyebrows thoughtfully, and the surprise on her face betrayed that Jake alone was the oblivious party in this group; she had somehow recognised his mother’s name too.

“Well, no, I had never noticed before. But now…”

“Ah it has been so long Jake, and you are so handsome. How long must it have been? Twenty-four, twenty-five years?”

 _Yes_. That was exactly what he had been waiting for.

Jake’s face split into a grin and he nodded.

“Yes. That would be my age indeed.”

A look of surprise passed over Kaye’s face, and Jake watched her expression morph from shock to comprehension to good natured defeat within almost a single second.

“Ok then Jake. You may go in.”

Kaye gestured to the door behind her and grinning ear to ear he passed over his grocery bag. The strange woman who knew his mother took it in the same hand she had her sequined outfit in, and he thanked her briefly before heading toward the door.

Only then he thought to ask.

It wasn’t really his business, and he didn’t particularly care because his mother had known so many strange people from so many different places he had stopped even questioning it anymore, but he was _somewhat_ curious. Enough to wonder in passing what he should call this lady, and if he should hear her name, would he recognise it from his mother’s sizable phone book.

“Oh, before I go in,” he looked over his shoulder, and the woman turned her face to look at him while her companion printed his details into a book. She looked so pretty, even with a lined face and grey threads in her golden hair. Her face was elegant and her makeup perfect. If Jake had to guess, she could have been about fifty? Maybe heading toward sixty? But she had curious light eyes that could have been twenty.

“What’s your name? Should I know you?”

The woman smiled sadly and pulled her shoulders into a shrug.

“My name is Rose and no, I don’t think you need know me. Please enjoy the show.”

Jake knotted his lips quizzically for a moment, then decided it didn’t matter.

He pushed open the doors and walked in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should make a playlist for this fic omg.
> 
> No. shut up bex you whore. 
> 
> In case you didn’t notice, I really do not like cherry ripes. :T


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep here yall go. thank you to my beautiful beta Kay and also Miyamashi who pointed out that i had mistakenly used the term 'Eftpos' in the last chapter without realising that it is a word specific to australia and new zealand xD for those of you confused by this im sorry. its essentially a debit or ATM card. >w

The club was busy and the waitresses beautiful; Jake wasted no time making a beeline for the bar, his eftpos card out of his pocket before he arrived, and when the barmaid had finished serving the previous customer he ordered a beer and a bag of salt and vinegar crisps to snack on. He was hungry, how he hadn’t noticed earlier he had no idea, and now that he had left his groceries in the other room he could not feel the inclination to return and fetch them. These would have to do.

“Thanks,” he offered the woman when she pushed him a coaster. “You don’t have-“

He was going to ask her if there was a phone back there he might be able to use, but was promptly distracted when a woman in a spangly red dress appeared out of nowhere and touched his leg a little higher up than necessary, her breasts almost rolling out of the halter holding up her outfit.

“Want company? I can give.”

Her accent was thick, oriental* like her features, and slow with opiate eroticism. Jake immediately recoiled from her, finding nothing remotely appealing in her presence, and directed in the slow almost patronizing tone people tend to address persons of non-english speaking origin that she might have more success pressuring one of the greasy looking patrons with eyes on her ass to take up her services.

This earned a dramatic scowl and she huffed heavily, all sense of grace disappearing as she erected herself and stomped against the bar.

“No. Ugly men. I will have drink instead.”

The barmaid rolled her eyes dramatically, pulling down a glass and shooting two measures of vodka into it for her, and Jake edged away as cautiously as he could. He could not help suspecting that he had just encountered something distinctly dangerous or unpleasant. This particular woman gave him a bad feeling, and it only increased when he watched her snatch the glass and toss back the contents with ease.

“If you want service, ask for Dana. I will do all thing to you.”

A sharp, perfectly painted finger was jabbed at his chest and Dana spun on a too high heal, stalking back across the cluttered room between tables and other woman serving drinks. She had a wiggle in her walk, a curious bob that identified her among the others, her long black hair spilling dead straight and shining down a graceful back. It made Jake’s skin crawl.

He sighed and cast an eye around for an empty table or somewhere to sit. Now he was in, he may as well enjoy the show.

He completely forgot about asking if he could use the phone.

 

✞

 

The longer Jake sat in Club Heaven watching dancers, the more his feeling of disappointment grew.

He wasn’t sure, exactly, what it was he had been hoping for. Well, actually, he was. But he wasn’t sure why he had genuinely believed that it might have been possible. It was all very wistful thinking on Jake’s part, and although he had ten minutes ago realised with a gasp of despair that he had forgotten to get some cash to buy a dance, he was beginning to think that this had been a blessing. There were no women around that he would really have wanted grinding against him, however pretty they looked in their ruffle skirts and garters, and had he possessed cash in his hot little hand, he probably would have been guilted into passing it over. Where was his blonde girl? The beauty with the orange dress and stunning face? Restlessly he cast his eyes over the ladies dancing in perfect (ridiculous, he still thought privately,) unison on the stage, like lookers from a old spaghetti western, and somehow, they were completely uninteresting. Still, even in the wake of several weeks here with no female interest or interaction they seemed surreal, and he couldn’t keep a straight face when he looked at them and saw an almost aggressive expression around the corners of their supposedly lust-inspiring lips. They were dressed differently from the ladies waitressing the place and selling lap dances to those who passed over paper securities, more like objects on display than things that could be touched or handled, and Jake had expected, almost whole heartedly, that if anything, his girl would be up there and unattainable. That her dalliance through the crowds last time had been a once off. The notion that she would drop onto the knee of someone other than he made his gut clench into an uncomfortable ball, because somewhere, between days of hard work, getting lost, and piles of home made biscuits, he had conjured an image of this girl beyond that of what he had known as fact. Without his even realising even! Fleeting thoughts, passive seconds where a flash of blonde resonated with some recollection and ponderings about a name that still eluded him had cobbled a woman of almost hallowed status with unconscious hands. Goddess-like. Beautiful. Though he had never thought it in such simple terms, some part of him had secured quite firmly on the idea of a woman of substance looking for a gentleman’s hand to guide her to some kind of happiness, but wasn’t that just the fantasy of all men who wanted to be a hero?

Jake sighed wearily and nursed his half full glass of beer, not feeling the alcohol affect him in any way shape of form. Not that a single glass of beer would get anyone particularly jollied, save his notoriously lightweight mother. He had always been pretty good at putting away the booze and he had always associated this with his body size, but seemingly out of nowhere, he wondered if perhaps, were he more inebriated, he would be more willing to beckon over a pretty waitress and ask her if he could swipe his eftops card in her AssTM.

No Jake.

Shut up.

That is just silly.

He downed the last of his beer (it wasn’t very nice, unfortunately) and set his now empty glass on the table, the foam sliding softly down the empty sides and pooling in the bottom in a precise metaphor for how he felt right now, knowing that it had gone eight pm (wow, that late? Already? Where did all that time even go?) and was officially too late to ring Jane or John for a lift. John refused point blank to answer the phone after eight, for reasons Jake didn’t comprehend. It was probably an old man thing, that he might grow to understand as he aged.

This left only one option, and while he probably wouldn’t have minded it so much if he had actually seen her after this entire disappointing night, the notion was not one that filled him with exceptional amounts of glee.

He was going to have to walk.

It wasn’t really that difficult a walk; Jake had trekked miles and miles in the past, and he had quite enjoyed the ruggedness of being outside with only a pack and a dirt road beneath his feet, but knowing that it would be at least an hour walk in the closing darkness when he could have been in bed with a merry good mystery novel if he had just managed to find Dirk and his stupid shitty Ute sort of detracted from the appeal. He hadn’t intended to stay this long. He hadn’t intended to be so passive and easily distracted from his quest. (He certainly hadn’t intended to get lost but there was no point in focusing on that affair, really). Jake hadn’t intended to do any of these things but the sad truth of the matter was becoming more and more clear: he was hopeless. He was truly, genuinely a hopeless case. Mind, only so long as he remained around these parts. The town and the setting and the people seemed to get under his skin and make him feel odd and misplaced, and it wasn’t even in a way that he could express. Delayed culture shock, stubbornness, homesickness, frustrations, a sense of unjust superiority he didn’t particularly like admitting to… all of these things and more, in increments so small they would have been unnoticeable by their own, were contributing to his actions, feelings and thoughts in these moments. In fact so deep in a funk of bother Jake English was, reflecting on this, that he didn’t even notice the slender mistress in the saloon dress loom over the group of men two tables over from him until she spoke, and the voice that escaped her was so striking that his heart rebooted and his head snapped up in shock. There was absolutely no doubt in all the world to whom that voice belonged.

“Can I interest any of you in a service?”

Jake was both startled and embarrassed with how fast his mind had filled in a non-existent gap there, the owner of that voice sounded absolutely nothing like the steel-faced handyman he had mistaken her for, and subsequently he found himself absolutely awestruck because holy shit it was her. It was her in her crisp orange ruffles and loose blonde curls, her in her high heals and legs that looked like they stretched from here to the edge of infinity itself. Her. His blonde stunner, no longer a figment of memory or fantasy but a reality that could not be denied. He hadn’t remembered her looking this amazing, with almond shaped eyes and a gaze that burned even when it wasn’t turned on him. He hadn’t remembered the exact degree of her jaw, or the severe line of her collar, or the soft mosquito bite shape of her breasts concealed teasingly under a dress that covered all the way up and somehow, the hidden line of probably shallow cleavage was much more erotic than the full display Dana or anyone working in the club around her could offer. Her waist was trim, her lips stunning and full. Even that voice, unusually low for a woman but sexy and smooth with a juicy southern accent, was perfect, and Jake gripped his empty glass with a strong hand as he watched her be declined by each man in succession. How? How could anyone decline that?

His hand clenched tighter when her shoulders sagged an increment and dismissively she lifted her eyes to scan for more potentials in the audience. She still maintained that air of dignity, even as the persons she had offered service before craned their heads to look around her at the look-but-don’t-touch exhibitions on stage.

It was in seeming slow motion that her eyes slid onto him and fixed, and by this point the glass Jake was holding shook in his hands, and he had to set it down to avoid letting it slip out of his grip. Feeling her eyes fix on his face made him acutely aware of everything about himself and his physical presence. The way he was still wearing grubby clothes from work that morning, the gap between his two front teeth and the slightly crooked set of his nose, where he had broken it getting into a scuffle at school age fifteen. His eyes, his lips, his messy hair… suddenly it all seemed so important. In a split second of frisson where there was nothing that existed beyond he and her and the twitching widening of beautiful eyes on her part he was conscious of his body like he had never been before, and that only tripled with his heart rate when she edged around the table and made a striding bee line for him, as if she had recognised his intentions as soon as she had locked eyes on his face.

“Hey.” She spoke with an aggression that made Jake stiffen his shoulders, stomach somersaulting. Overwhelming shock struck through him when, just like he had seen her do to that man that first time he had observed her, she set her foot up on the edge of his chair and opened her legs like they were the gates to heaven itself. The fall of fabric that hid her underwear, and the suspenders that lined the sides of her thighs, was a curse and a thrill. Jake swallowed the lump in his throat and hoped it was dim enough for her not to see the colour rising in his cheeks.

“You’ve been here before,” she told him, in that thick, beautiful accent. “I recognise your face.”

As if reading him, knowing it was okay to do so, she reached forward and lifted his chin to examine him. Her hands were cold, and had a familiar pressure about them that Jake interpreted simply as destiny. This was it. Meant to be. He had met his future wife in a strip club, because he swore to god right here and right now; he was going to marry this girl. He was going to marry her, and treasure her, and take her away to any place in any world and make her his forever and ever, amen, because women like this didn’t walk into a man’s life ever day. Women so stunning and powerful and sexy, and Jake was sorely tempted to throw back his table and seize her now, kiss her so hard she couldn’t breathe and then whisk her away to anywhere she whispered in his ear. This was it.

Jake English was in love, and completely paralysed despite his will to throw himself at her as she studied his face like a judge might examine a hound at a dog show. This must be what it was like to want someone on every single, comprehendible level.

“What’s your name?” she demanded, and he stuttered when he tried to speak, his words caught on his shock and the numbness that seemed to have clogged him up with cotton wool.

J-Jake. English.”

His voice cracked embarrassingly, and the edge of her lip curled in a sneer he was prepared to bet his ass on having seen before. In his dreams.

“Pleased to meet you Mister English. You enjoying yourself this evening? Making the most of it?”

Her grip tightened on his chin and it almost hurt, Jake jerked his chin away, shaken, not sure if he was imagining the tense, almost angry subtext in those words. God that was hot. God domineering women were hot. Impassioned… Jake liked them fiery.

“What?”

“You. Coming here. Cheeky fucker… looking for something particular?”

She carded a hand through his hair as she asked this, tone dropping a few suggestive notes, and Jake couldn’t help it he reached for the leg not hoisted over him. Wow. She smelt good. Like brown sugar and cinnamon orange body cream and shit her skin felt great.

“Don’t touch me.”

The hand was swiftly slapped away, not rudely but frankly, and Jake snapped it back to his chest swiftly as he could. Shit. Whoops. Unintentional. But definitely worth it.

Her skirts rustled and Jake’s seat creaked as she shifted, bringing her leg down and placing both hands on the back of his chair. The place on his scalp where she had touched was ignited, and as she bent to bring her face level with his he became distinctly aware that his thighs were getting tense. His crotch hot.

“But are you? Looking for something? There must be a reason you came.”

“I…” Jake thought that ‘I came for a phone’ sounded pretty lame, but that was all he came up with.

“I came to use the phone.”

She cocked an eyebrow, and from this close Jake could see every thread of colour in her electric irises even in the low light.

“Funny looking phone, English. You sure you’re not after something else?”

“… Yes. I mean no. I mean… uh…”

She gave him that smile again, and leaned impossibly closer.

“Fifty dollars a dance. Hundred and twenty dollars for a massage and two hundred for a blow, what’s your order?”   

Jake choked on his own breath, hardly believing what he was hearing. She was offering him a blowjob. A blowjob. Unless ‘blow’ meant something different over here? He didn’t think it did.

“I don’t have any money!” he gushed, more sorry for this than he had ever been before in his life. Suddenly, his lack of change for the carnation boy outside the supermarket seemed laughable.

The woman heaved a sigh and erected herself, and if Jake wasn’t pre-occupied spiralling into despair, he would have noticed that she looked distinctly pissed off about the whole situation.

“Go home, English. Make use of yourself elsewhere.”

She spun on her heel and stalked back toward the front of the stage, and utterly humiliated and fraught with self loathing, Jake groaned and buried his face in his hands.

That had not happened.

Please pray to god that had not happened.

But it had, and there was little on this earth that he could do about it. 

✞

 

Jake’s company on the long walk home consisted of little more than misery and the impending night, and indeed by the time the neatly kept road out of the town fragmented into a dirt track rutted with the passage of traffic over steady years, it was completely pitch and only the third quarter moon lit his journey. Jake didn’t mind travelling by starlight, the pinpricks of white cast over the velvet sky like a handful of salt reminded him of the outback, forgiving the fact that, around here, there was no southern cross to guide him on his way back home. The tree lined road would probably have been unnerving to a weaker man, the sharp photo-negative of moonlight bringing an eerie presence, all too real and yet somehow not real at all, to passing landmarks, and ringing uncanny as the late still-warm winds rustled canopies of overhead leaves. It smelt fresh and pleasant, and crickets chirped as he walked, his shoes crunching the gravel. Any other time he would have appreciated it. But not tonight.

Not now he that had been put on the rack by an apparent divinity, who knew his name and had offered to put her mouth on his dick if only he had brought some goddamned money.

Jake was a gentleman, he could not repeat this fact enough, but people called places like that ‘gentleman’s clubs’ for a reason and who was going to sue him for supporting a fellow human being in exchange for a amiable service?

Jake was not above paying for sex. To him, it seemed fine. Although he was a little grey on the legality of it here (hey, that was a point. Was she even legally allowed to offer him any of that stuff?), it was a perfectly acceptable career where he came from and frankly, somewhat respectable. Maybe not as respectable as a nurse or a receptionist, but high class hookers made good money and lived good lives, and good on them for it too! Entrepreneurs. They saw a gap in the market, they have the means to fill it. Women really were ace regardless of their life choices. Clever sorts of people, really.

Not like himself.

Still spit roasting himself over the flame of his steadily deepening shame, Jake made most of the remaining walk home in a state of near hypnosis, and oblivious as he was, he remained unaware of the passage of time or the vehicles that twice passed him by as he walked; one a sedan, the other larger, with a faint grunt under its hood. The sedan turned left, down another road toward a nearby city, within seeing distance of him; a family perhaps, on a trip that ran from early morning to near midnight because somewhere someone was getting married come morning, but the other vehicle drove on, straight forward. The only thing that lay that way was the house to which Jake had intentions of returning. Or at least, as far as he knew. He hadn’t been here long enough to have explored the possibility of more.

But for now such details seemed irrelevant.

 

✞

 

“Get the fuck up.”

Jake English had the most startling wake up call of his life the next day, a heavy clout to his head with one of the pillows he had thrown in the corner of the room before he tumbled into bed last night rousing him from that curious mind-space between sleep and alertness. It brought him abruptly back into the dent he had managed to forge in the mattress so far, and he didn’t much care for it. Not one bit.

“You overslept. It’s nine thirty.”

For a second, Jake misheard the voice that stirred him, thinking through drowsiness and confusion at first that it was his mothers, and then that it was hers, the girl from the club, but it was not. Instead of a long legged angel, Jake found himself face to face with a lanky looking man in severe shades and a grubby singlet upon sitting up, and though his vision was blurred without his glasses this site did not bring a sparkle to forest green eyes.

“Oh you have got to be joshing me, old chap. I’m going back to bed…”

“You are not going back to bed. Not after last night’s escapades. Fucking ditch me in town, let me panic. What the hell was I supposed to tell your uncle? You need a fucking leash English, now grow some balls and get your sorry ass out of bed.”

He strode around Jake’s bed and seized the corner of his blanket, yanking it as hard as he possibly could and, despite Jake’s bulk, managing to strip him of it completely. Jake was fleetingly relieved he had been too tired to get naked before crawling into bed the night before.

“Alright marmite calm down! Calm down and give me back my blankets!”

“No. I don’t think I will.”

Dirk dumped them on the floor and gave Jake a very significant (and somehow, un-interpretable) look from behind his shades.

“I’m going downstairs. Be down in five minutes.”

He departed, and still trying to shake off the shock of what had just happened, Jake stared at the wall in front of his bed and at the tangled duvet carnage that Dirk had left in his wake. Sunlight was leaking in thick golden lashings through his window; the birds were singing…

It promised to be a beautiful day.

 

✞

 

“Goshdarnit, Dirk, how many times must I repeat that I got lost. I couldn’t find my way back to the car.”

Jake stood in his uncle’s kitchen trying to down a cup of coffee and convince the stubborn handyman (sitting at the preparation table and peeling an orange) that he really had not planned on deserting him at all; things just didn’t seem to be going his way that night and apparently, this morning either.

“Uh huh, so that’s why John said you didn’t get back til hella late?”

“Yes!”

“Where did you go while you weren’t with me?”

Jake could feel Dirk’s eyes snap to him and fix on his face.

“If you don’t tell me honestly, I will know it.”

Jake found this gravely ominous.

He did consider lying, but the straight lipped expression Dirk set on him made him deeply uncomfortable; he had no option but to be honest here. Besides, it wasn’t like Dirk was going to laugh at him or anything…

“… I went to a strip club to see if I could use the phone. But then I forgot.”

There was a long, serious pause, and Jake’s heart skipped because what if he didn’t believe him.

But then Dirk sighed heavily and checked his watch, before discarding his orange skin on the table and standing up with the creaking groan of someone who actually, under a no-shit attitude, very much wanted to just crawl into bed as well.

“Okay. Whatever. I didn’t have any major plans today anyway and it’s already ten o’clock. Come with me, we can weed a bit around the back ‘cause I’m sure the shit you pulled up when you first arrived will be starting back by now. You up for it? And then at twelve I want to take the horses out for a bit. ”

He took a bite out of his bare and pithy orange as he might have done an apple, and Jake noticed with an odd twist that the juice that dribbled over his bottom lip and down his chin was glossy; a textural observation which usually would have escaped him.

Shaking this thought from his head Jake focused on the matter at hand: did Dirk just mention the horses? The long awaited horses Jake had been dying to meet? It was difficult to tell if he had been invited along, the whole statement had been disordered and a bit mysterious. He thought he had better check to make sure. “Up for what? The working?”

Dirk shrugged obscurely and struck the back of his hand over his mouth to relieve the drips.

“Yeah?”

Jake decided that that sounded okay. Although he would have sorely liked to join him in going to see the horses, he thought that he had best not push his luck by asking.

 

✞

 

The day’s work was easy, and Jake had plenty of time to think about things while he was pulling weeds, that had indeed sprung back up overnight, and watering patches of garden in the shade. Dirk seemed content to tackle the overgrown ivy plants that Jake had been too scared to approach last time, growing over a flimsy tool shed at the back of the property, and entirely by accident Jake found his gaze attracted to watching Dirk work. The way he tore at the plant, hacked at it skilfully, butterfly wings of sweat appearing and slowly spreading across the back of his wife beater… it all became suddenly deeply fascinating. How white his skin was, how he somehow didn’t burn in the harsh sunshine… The backyard was a green oasis, sweet and shady and lushly scented. He looked out of place there, not sunburned enough, yet also, somehow, not fresh enough. He didn’t seem like a textbook ‘bumpkin’, and he didn’t seem like a city boy. He seemed displaced, exotic and not exotic, someone that really, Jake thought, didn’t belong anywhere so much as nowhere.

Bluh, but who cared about Dirk?

Why was he thinking about Dirk when he could have been thinking about her.

Remembering the girl at the club made Jake’s heart synonymously leap and sink; he had come so close to touching her. So close to indulging in the gentleman’s arts…. It was all very disappointing, but sleep had set a reasonable pair of rose tinted glasses on him, and already he was wondering if he could possibly get back there with some cash in hand. Not that he was desperate or anything!

Yeah… okay he was a little bit desperate.

And it wasn’t because he couldn’t just go out and pick up a lady friend if he wanted to. Jake was well familiar with female attentions, he had always been a female favourite. He thought himself an amiable ladies chap, really, and the only thing that made this lady different, besides her occupation, was her breathtaking beauty and her apparent disinterest in him.

If there was one thing Jake English loved it was a lady who wasn’t interested. He was, after all, quite the fan of a challenge. The adventure.

Regretfully, adventures here were not great in number. In fact, the closest Jake could come would probably be a lapdance from a hooker. So sue him. He was over eighteen, and he could go to a burlesque house and pursue some scandalous entertainment if he jolly well wanted.

He would.

“English.”

He jumped, nearly stabbing his hand with a gardening fork, when Dirk knocked the side of his head lightly with a grubby gardening glove and addressed him. How he had gotten to this side of the yard from where he was before without Jake’s noticing was a mystery, but Jake didn’t have time to either ask or be bewildered because Dirk just laughed at him derisively, and nipped the fork out of his hand in a single fluid gesture.

“It’s twelve twenty. I’m quitting. You can stay here and daydream if you like.”

“Huh? No!” Jake stumbled to his feet and tried to look as though he hadn’t been lost in a borderline sexual fantasy. “No, it’s okay, I’m here. I am one hundred percent here. Look indeed.” He gestured to himself and a small curl appeared at the corner of Dirk’s lips.

“Okay then. You are free to go for the day. See you tomorrow, okay?”

He leaned in and clapped a firm hand on Jake’s shoulder, which was unexpected because he had never done it before and those shades made his predictability a fair null, and Jake jumped, still feeling the curious self consciousness that comes with being caught while thinking about something that shouldn’t be contemplated in public.

“… Yes. Very well. Good.”

Dirk gave him a short nod and went to step away, but then he hesitated in a way that would have been awkward, but god forbid Jake ever even contemplate the word ‘awkward’ in relation to Dirk.

“… What is it?”

“Uh … I was just thinking.” He shrugged and flicked the grubby gardening gloves against his hands idly.  “I’m actually going out to work the horses later this afternoon, and I’m pretty sure that John said something about you wanting to go riding. I’m cool with you coming with me, if you want to, but you gotta promise me that you aren’t going to be a shitty rider because I honestly cannot be fucked teaching you.”

Jake’s heart did a triple backflip of excitement. Halle-fucking-lujah, it was about time! God bless his uncle for thinking to mention it. His excitement was audible in his voice.

“Yes! Okay, that would be absolutely tip-top my good fellow! Simply ace. Will I have time to change my clothes first or…?”

“Yeah go eat lunch first. I’m not going until later this afternoon. But don’t change your clothes. You wanna be wearing old stuff so it doesn’t matter if it gets dirty.”

Jake looked down at his grubby cargo pants and grey t-shirt, making judgement on how suitable they would be for riding. His shirt was too small and a little clingy. The soft pudge that was beginning to appear on his usually muscular belly since his arrival in this lazy town was clearly visible, and struck by a ridiculous sense of vanity he sucked it in in the hope that Dirk (with his gymnasts muscles and perfectly flat stomach) hadn’t noticed.

“Oh, okay. Sounds reasonable.”

“Hm.”

Dirk regarded him for a single lingering moment longer, reading him from behind his shades and (hopefully) not noticing the odd way his stomach was tensed compared to the broader muscles of his arms and chest. Assumedly he did not, because he jerked his head stiffly and spun on his heel, walking in his swift characteristic manner across the yard and stopping by the shed to pick up the hedge loppers he had left leaning there beside the stump of ivy and pile of compostable green. Jake exhaled, tummy relaxing, and he looked down at it with an almost affectionate expression on his face.

“Golly, I’m going to have to get rid of you before we go back to Club Heaven aren’t I?”

Horse riding seemed like a good way to get started on that.

 

✞

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *During editing my beta pointed out to me that the term ‘Oriental’ could be considered some form of ethnic slur, depending on where the reader comes from. In some places in the states it is considered offensive, whereas in some places in the UK it is used to denote someone from far eastern descent, because the term ‘Asian’ is used to describe someone from india or the middle eastern region. I have elected to use the word, because New Zealand english is a derivitive of british english, and thus the meaning of the term is transferable and entirely without any negative connotations. <3
> 
> finally, if i dont update this before christmas day (im sorry... i probably will not) i wish all those who read a happy holiday, and may your new year be glorious and joyful. xox


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is ridiculously self indulgent im really sorry. :/

 

Jake was excessively and undeservedly pleased with himself when he returned to the house for lunch, and apparently it was noticeable in his strut because Jane called him up on it almost instantly, when he came by the kitchen to fetch himself a healthy lunch. Though it was at least thirty degrees outside, she appeared to be boiling the kettle, and Jake had to mind his arm as he reached for the fresh baked loaf of bread on the windowsill, cooling in a blue plaid tea towel.

“Someone looks chipper.”

“Indeed I am, miss Jane. Strider has agreed to take me out to see the horses this afternoon.”

“Oh,” Jane looked pleasantly surprised. “See, I told you he was a nice guy.”

“I believe I am becoming accustomed to his peculiarisms yes. Say, this bread is quite delightful. Did you bake this?”

Jane shook her head, watching Jake chew over the small portion he had torn from the corner of the loaf with the air of one who rather considered himself an expert on the yeastly arts.

“No, the cook did.” Her kettle whistled and she lifted it off the stovetop. Her teacup, boasting a teaball full of the fancy country kitchen herbal tea blend she had ordered online some weeks prior, awaited her steady hand to pour hot water in. As she did so, a delicious smell curled off the surface of the cup. Jake hummed and set down the loaf of bread.

“Oh, well its good anyway.” he clattered around the kitchen, picking up the butter, some cheese, some lettuce and a few dressings and tomatoes, before returning and withdrawing a sizable knife from the block at the far end of the bench. “Say, you don’t suppose I should make myself some food to take with me? He didn’t say how long we would be, is all…”

Jane jiggled her tea ball in her drink and pulled her shoulders into a casual shrug. She thought distantly that Jake looked cute when he was excited.

“Not too long. I wouldn’t bother taking food, the stables are just over by Dirk’s house, it’s only about a five minute drive away from here, and he will feed you if you get hungry.”

“Oh!” Jake paused in his sandwich making, his clumsy buttering of the bread with a ridiculously oversized knife a perfect simile for his own capacity for delicate conduct. “Dirk has a house?”

This had not been intended to sound as stupid as it did.

Jane gave him a long look, (and remembered quite clearly then, that although Jake may be attractive he was really not the sharpest tool in the metaphorical shed) and he flushed and turned his attention back to his sandwich. Oh embarrassment. It plagued him.

“I meant to say, that I had never stopped to think… it didn’t occur to me…”

Jake had never taken a moment to hesitate, and consider that Dirk Strider was a person with a house to return to, and a life beyond the cameos that he appeared for in Jake’s own. He was never the most broad-minded person, the notion that there were people out there, people he had never met and who he would never meet living lives just as vibrant and complex as his was something that he had never considered extensively. It was like, when he had found himself lost in the village last night. The way that those suburban streets had criss-crossed and tangled had added a surreal depth to the road that Jake was unfamiliar with, and he had of course as a result ended up getting completely and hopelessly lost. It was not a selfish quality, this complete forgetfulness when it came to other people and what they did with themselves, so much as it was the manner in which Jake was programmed. He couldn’t help it; his ability to cope with sonderous concepts was limited, at best.

At worst, it was absolutely dismal.

In any case, the knowledge that Dirk had a house seemed to open up new channels in his brain, bridging the gap between what he knew and what felt like a whole warehouse of _questions_ , and oddly enough he couldn’t for the life of him think why. Noseiness was not in his nature. What was Dirks house like? What was his room like? Did it resemble Jake’s back at home, which had been wallpapered with posters and pin ups right out of a 1950s softporn magazine? Was it tidy? For some reason, Jake thought that it would be spotlessly tidy. Everything in its place, everything gleaming…

“Yes Dirk has a house, Jake. What did you think he slept in the back of his Ute?”

Actually Jake wouldn’t have found that too hard to believe.

“No, it just plumb never occurred to me, is all. Golly, I really am a bit away with the fairies sometimes aren’t I?”

Jane didn’t have the heart to tell him that he wasn’t just away with the fairies, he was a Prisoner of War and those gossamer bitches were never going to be giving him back.

“Yes, sometimes. Would you like a cup of tea?”

✞

 

Jake took his sandwich and his cup of fragrant girl tea into the dining room, thinking that it might be nice to sit down for a bit while he ate in relative peace. Unfortunately, peace was not something he would find; his uncle had already taken a position at the head of the table, and he was talking into a cordless phone as though whatever the conversation was could have meant life or death. But then, John always did have the most peculiar priorities… Jake recalled his trip to Australia several years back, and his conviction that getting Jane’s photo taken with a koala had been considerably more important than the fact that the animal in question had just peed all over her nice white blouse. It was quite ungentlemanly, Jake thought, to insist a photo be taken while a lady is in distress, but it may be different when the ‘lady’ is ones fourteen year old daughter and the product would not only be an excellent thing to have sitting on the mantel but a delightful Christmas greeting card; the old mans sense of humour couldn’t be argued with.

“You know I can’t do anything,” He was talking into the mouthpiece in a tone that suggested he was actually quite tired of the conversation, and his moustache was positively bristling. “he’s a stubborn kid… yes I know. I _know_ …”

Blue eyes flicked to Jake as he passed and John gave him a brief finger wave to greet him.

“Look, if it makes you feel better I will try talk to him. But I’m not making any promises!”

This must have appeased whoever was on the other end, because as Jake pulled out a seat at the table John sighed in relief and nodded, though the gesture was lost on the line.

“Yeah. No, okay. Okay. I’m on it… yes. Yes okay. Okay I gotta go now I… no he’s here a week next Thursday. Yeah. Yeah okay I will. Bye.”

He hung up quickly, and placed the phone on the table. Jake gave him a supportive little smile and he sighed.

“You sound as if you have a grand weight on your shoulders.”

“Yeah… kind of. It’s not easy being a peacemaker.”

“Peacemaker? That’s a mighty title you have got yourself there, old chap.”

“Hey, respect your elders.”

Jake grinned and took a large bite out of his sandwich.

“Ah yes, forgive me my mistake, young chap.”

John rolled his eyes.

“Very sharp very sharp. Now though, while I’ve got you sitting down. Tell me what you think you were getting up to last night? Dirk came in in quite a poorly mood this morning because of you.”

Jake swallowed his sandwich, and tried to look repentant.

“I got lost,” he repeated the story for what felt like the ten billionth time. “and I went to the strip club to call back here and then I got extremely distracted. I have talked to him, however. We are quite humming about it all now.”

“Huh.” John raised his eyebrows and regarded Jake in surprise. “You must have said something pretty convincing to have him still talking to you after those shenanigans! Dirk doesn’t usually stand for bullshit.”

“… I know.”

He remained under John’s scrutiny for a moment longer, and then his uncle sighed, and pulled himself to his feet.

“Whelp, I best get going. Phonecalls to make. Don’t go looking for trouble this evening, will you?”

“Ah now there is the unfortunate crux of the matter good sir, as it is rare that I ever go out looking for trouble. Trouble as it were, has quite the habit of looking for me!”

Only half of that statement was true; John knew as he departed the dining room that a boy like Jake English was actually quite fond of searching for trouble, and it was an unfortunate scenario indeed that this almost romantic sentiment was returned by trouble in turn. 

✞

 

“Hey there, cowboy.” Jake tried to be chummy when Dirk stopped by to pick him up, but Dirk was just was just as straight faced as ever, if a little softer when he clipped Jake around the side of the head with his hand.

“Cow _man_ English. I hope you’re ready, we gotta walk there.”

“Oh… aren’t we taking the Ute?”

“Nope, it’s a half hour walk, and it will do you good fucking look at you. Getting a bit broad around the middle don’t you think?”

“Hey!” Jakes hands flung to his stomach and Dirk gave him a teasing little smile.

“Just kidding man. But come on. Walk with me.”

Reluctantly, Jake dropped his hands, still looking down at his slightly pudgy tummy. Dirk clicked his tongue and mounted the deck stairs, grabbing the sleeve of his t-shirt and giving it a tug.

“It’s not far.”

If Jake hadn’t been so self conscious about his little love handle, it would have occurred to him that Dirk actually appeared to be making an effort.

They set off down the drive way, feet crunching on the dusty gravel, and almost as soon as they did so Jake started to feel the heat crawling over the back of his neck. It was heavy and sticky, different from the burning mug of home, and they were only just at the road when Jake felt half moons of sweat appear under his arms.

“By the sweet pointed nips of lady Godiva it sure is hot today!”

Dirk snorted, and lifted his arms in a smug gesture of superiority. Curse him and his smart ass wife beaters.

“Nice turn of a phrase, English. Keep talking.”

Jake smiled and pushed slightly damp hair off his brow.

They passed the walk in relative comfort, save for the heat, not chatting so much as sharing banter under a thin guise of snarkiness. Dirk spoke fluidly, like someone from a much bigger town than this, and Jake found that actually, listening to him for a long period of time wasn’t that bad. He had a certain poise about him that was appealing, if somewhat off-putting at first, and a steadiness in his voice that held the attention of the listener. He also seemed much more eager to talk for some reason, and this _did_ occur to Jake. He thought to himself, quite privately, that Dirk may have gotten laid last night. Despite his foul mood that morning, he had brightened up significantly now. Then again, maybe he was simply excited for the promise of riding this afternoon.

“You know you appear to be in a quit a smashing mood this afternoon mister Strider.” Jake wandered on the very edge of the road, balancing carefully on the shoreline of gravel that dropped into a ditch on his left side. Long grass rustled in a toasty breeze, and translucent green leaf filaments waivered in a canopy overhead. Patches of blue sky peeked down on them, and Dirk now was also beginning to sweat; his shoulders looked glossy in the sunlight.

“I’m not bad,” he replied, turning his face upward. Jake felt that there was something that needed to be said besides this, but Dirk did not elaborate. They passed much of the remaining walk in silence.

✞

 

Jakes stomach flipped when they reached the end of the road, and the small blip on the horizon began to grow, taking the form of a house, in a paddock, in a calendar picture of the southern countryside Jake had read about in novels and seen on TV movies about sweet belles and horse drawn carriages and balls.

“And would that be Casa di Strider?”

“It would. Although I think the term ‘Strider hood’ would be more appropriate.”

Jake laughed, and swung his arms by his side to loosen up his muscles.

“Oh? I suspect ‘hood’ doesn’t mean the same kind of thing, as it means back in the old home country.”

“No, it means the same.”

Jake gave Dirk a critical look, not thinking he looked like the sort to be involved in hoodlum related hoo-har and other questionable goings on, but a quick flash of his shades and a wry smile suggested he best not ask any more questions.

“It’s in the opposite direction anyway. The stable. Right on the edge of the manor property. You know that land stretches all the way over here, right? From my roof you can see the house on the horizon. But here, we cut across this paddock.” He stuck his arm in front of Jake and gestured at another large open stretch of grass, hemmed by the forest at the far side and boasting yet another edifice, obviously the stable, closer to where they stood now.

Jake thought again how ridiculously picturesque a place it was, where he now lived, but with some tripping over his own feet as he tried to change his direction and leap the shallow ditch on the side of his road. He almost didn’t make it, Dirk clearing it in an easy leap and then waiting on the other side to laugh at his struggle.

“Nice job English. Barely a two foot jump and you’re already almost breaking your ankles.”

“Shut up!” he stumbled to his feet and adjusted his glasses, standing knee deep in grass and embarrassment. Dirk just shook his head, and lead him on a trek to the stable side.

The stable was not unlike any other stable Jake had been in before. A rickety construction with musty beams propping the roof, and bales of hay stacked outside the door. Dusty windows, letting ropes of golden light inside, shone and winked as Dirk pulled open hefty, creaking doors. The sweetish scent of hay and age and sun rolled out, and Jake drew a deep breath instantly. He regretted it when the aftertaste of horse shit made him gag.

“Golly, it could use a clean in here!”

“I cleaned it yesterday evening. Clearly you are a uneducated in the reality of farm animals and their bodily functions. How do you manage to dress yourself in the mornings?”

Jake lifted his eyebrows and scuffed after him, though dusty hay and uninteresting stable details toward the stalls at the far side of the shed. It was cooler in here, than it had been outside.

“Just be glad that I do.”

Dirk shook his head a little in what might have been amusement, and approached the first of the stalls.

There were six or so horses in the tables, and Jake met all of them one by one but only one actually appealed to him at all. A brown pony, whom Dirk referred to as Dash, and told Jake (with a warmth in his voice that he had not used before,) was actually his favourite too.

“She’s new in the stables, There’s a man in the village lets me use her while I’m here. He’s a breeder. You wanna ride?”

“While you are here?” Jake reached for the pony, her head only about level with his, and ran his hand on the side of her tawny neck. “Were you not here before?”

He shook his head and ruffled dash’s mane.

“Born here,” he informed Jake shortly. “Never mind. She’s a good horse I’d rather have you on here than on one of the race horses.”

And so it was Jake found himself saddled on short wee Dash, with her caramelly coat and white ankles, while Dirk heaved himself with a delightful expertise onto one of the haughty thoroughbreds housed at the other end of the stalls.

“Who’s that?” Jake asked him, feeling a bit ridiculous and somewhat small, beside his companion as they lingered briefly outside the stable, to ensure everyone involved knew the score.

“Denzin. He’s a fucking douchebag.”

Yet douchebag or not, Denzin obliged Dirk’s instruction in an identical manner as Dash had. Although granted, he did so with much more power and a distinct air of superiority about him that Dash, who had slowly drifted and by the time Dirk had finished mounting had arrived by the corner of the stable building so as to munch on a patch of grass, couldn’t hope to compete with.

“Say, Strider? How is one supposed to control this animal? It seems considerably more dedicated to its gastronomical needs than to the activities at hand.”

“Pull the halter.” He steered his mount closer and reached down to pick the reigns he had earlier fixed onto the pony for Jake’s convenience. “You gotta be the boss English she’s a sweetheart but she’s as dopey as you are and unless you assert yourself its going to become a case of the blind leading the blind.”

“…oh.” Jake looked on in awe when Dirk pulled her up and to attention, from a comfortable seat on a much more impressive steed.

Why oh _why_ did Dirk Strider have to be so impressive? Jake couldn’t keep competing with a man like that, really. He couldn’t keep resisting. Everything about him, from his stance to the cool control he held over both animals, was stunning. Dirk looked so noble and mighty on his horse, and although Jake was familiar with riding and had thought himself very good, he was like a three year old just learning without training wheels compared to he who could give a squeeze of his ankle and be off on a swift trot across the waving paddock, his ass lifted comfortably out of the saddle to accommodate the bumpy ride.

“Wait for me!” Jake hollered after him, giving dash a brief kick and then regretting it when she shot off in a clumsy lope after her master. “Oh Jesus merry _dicks_ slow down will you? Oh mercy me this is just fucking terrible _will you slow down_?!”

He was glad that Dirk couldn’t hear him, much further ahead and riding with enviable proficiency toward the edge of the forest and then along it toward the big house. He thought that indeed this would be the sort of thing Dirk would laugh at him for, but he would be lying if he were to say that it didn’t give him a little thrill to rise up on wobbly legs in the stirrups and emulate his stance as he pottered in slow pony-ish paces in his wake.

✞

 

Unsurprisingly, Dirk had knowledge to match his abilities and after his need for speed had been satisfied, he returned for Jake whose horse had taken to a slow and regal amble, regardless of how hard Jake kicked her side.

“You’re not meaning it, that’s why. She can tell you are nervous.”

“Of course I’m bloody nervous! What if she dashes off and I fall on my bean in the grass? What then? Her name is _Dash_ after all. Very suspicious.”

Dirk grinned down at him, and shook his head a little. Redness, possibly sunburn, was beginning to scratch at the bridge of his nose and his hair was damp with sweat at the roots. Jake was convinced that he was doing a fair impression of a water fountain himself. Though the day had tired and the afternoon was beginning to bleed into golden evening, it was still hot and the sound of crickets was beginning to click and hum under the rustle of a subtle wind.

“She’s not going to run off, she’s called Dash because I named her after a TV show I like. How bad a rider would I be if I allowed my horse to just run off when she has a different man on her back? Pretty fucking shit that’s what. Trust me. Kick her _hard_ and mean it.”

Jake gave him a long, hesitant look, hunting for any doubt in shaded eyes.

There were none, and he decided that if he fell off and broke his arm at least he would have a war story to share with his dame at club heaven when he saw her again.

He gave Dash a kick.

Dirk’s instruction was never wrong, he taught Jake how to hold the reigns, how to trot and canter and told him that when he was better, he might consider getting Jake onto one of the race horses and teaching him to gallop, but this was unlikely to be a thing that happens; Jake wasn’t a natural rider, he was as good in the saddle as a sack of dirty potatoes, and Dirk told him that upright when he simply could not get Dash to turn left on one of their exercises. For a man who had stipulated quite clearly that he had no desire to teach Jake anything at all, he sure was a passionate instructor.

Dirk’s ability to teach was admirable and definitely appealing, his patience though thin was flexible and his stern matter of factness a trait that seemed to numb Jakes tendency to be a bit of a lark about. For the serious atmosphere of their activities, which from a distance would probably have looked like two horses standing in a paddock and circling around each other pointlessly for almost two hours, it was comfortable. Dirk’s directives were brief, repetitive and reasonable, and he would not cease until Jake had performed the act perfectly.

(“Turn left, then turn right, then walk around me in two circles then back the opposite direction for two circles”)

It was not dressage training, so much as it was Dirk taking perverse pleasure in bossing Jake around. Not that he would ever admit such a thing. It was entertaining for him to be in charge like this, and he certainly did make the most of it. It was fortunate Jake did not have the intelligence to question his motives.

Deciding that it grew late, and Jake knew enough about riding now for him to next time come on a more direct trek of some sort perhaps into the village, Dirk gave the order to return to the stable and Jake began steering his ride in that direction, a look of concentration firm on his face. It was easier than breathing for Dirk to sail a swift gallop back, and he was already dismounted and removing the tack by the time Jake returned and slid clumsily off.

Jake knew his ass was going to be sore tomorrow.

“Not too bad English. You didn’t even fall off.”

Pride flushed Jake’s cheeks and he grinned, passing Dirk the horse and watching him push it carefully aside the stable so he could remove the saddle and other gear. Denzin was tied up to the door, and grazing with languid beauty on the tufts of resilient grass by a rusted old trough and a cube of hay. The kit tinkled and rattled as Dirk unbuckled the straps.

“That was absolutely smashing fun, Dirk. I hope we could enjoy such a date at a later point in tame?”

Dirk shrugged demurely and erected himself, so as to heave the saddle off of dash and onto the post by which they stood.

“Yeah? Whatever.”

And Jake exhaled, beginning to feel the hum of endorphins tingle through him in much the same manner they had on previous adventurous outings, such as his trip to Ayers rock and jumping off the sky tower on their family trip to Auckland a couple of years gone. Wow. He hadn’t felt this genre of excitement since he had left his old home.

“Marvellous. Say, do you know what the time might be?”

“Bout six I’d say.”

“Ah. Well I am starting to feel jolly hungry. Do you think we will be able to make it home in time for dinner?”

He was hoping to imply that Dirk should invite him into his house, but he was not obscure about it. A knowing little grin, almost invisible and almost fond, quirked the corner of Dirk’s lip.

“Yes.” He responded, and Jakes face fell. “We will just have to walk fast.”

“Oh. Well-“ he was cut off, Dirk reiterating his statement so as to leave no gap for arguments.

“We will just have to walk fast.”

✞

 

That evening, Jake finally got around to having a bath.

He ran the water a little cooler than usual, as the evening was still hot, and as he did so thought of Dirk who after dropping him back off that afternoon had departed again before John could see him and invite him to stay for dinner. He wondered if Dirk was having anything so nice as roast chicken and salad for dinner at his little house down the road, or if he was having a shower, or a bath, and then wondered too whether or not he would be able to see Dirk’s house from here if he went into the attic and peered from one of the medallion windows that spilled cones of sunlight into the dusted space. Maybe he would.

He decided it didn’t really matter, and stripped naked, checking the temperature of the bathwater with his foot before sinking into the tub.

Jake had never really understood bath-tubs, and how it was possible for a person to spend so long in one; his mother could sit in a tub with a book for upwards of an hour, but honestly in Jake’s youth he struggled to sit still for longer than five minutes even when there was bubbles. There were no bubbles tonight, just a bar of plain white soap, and yet for some reason when Jake submerged his body a grandiose tiredness loomed and overtook him, sudden weight falling on his eyelids, and aches he didn’t even realise he had in his arms and back lifted and flooded him with warm relief. It was wonderful. Delicious. Jake had never really had to _work_ before, he didn’t make a habit of counting tramps and bungee jumping as ‘work’, and so it was that he was unfamiliar with the feeling of tiredness and pain in his muscles, the tiredness and pain that would work a mans arms to thin elite sinews not dissimilar to Dirks, and melt off the excess bulk accumulated over several years of rowing which, now he was working in a proper work environment, seemed unwieldy and unnecessary.

He sighed blissfully and closed his eyes, head dropping against the back rim of the tub, Adams apple bobbing as he swallowed.

Yes, Jake English was well and truly settled now, and despite his earlier vow to himself he couldn’t _help_ but think somewhat softly of Dirk, with his admirable proficiencies and honourable behaviour. He thought too of his cousin, sweet and young, so far from civilization, and of his uncle who seemed much to jovial and childish to be trusted with such a mighty house.

And finally he thought of that beautiful girl, with her beautiful legs and her voice that made the hair on the nape of his neck prickle.

Jake thought that at this point, he was very much at home. 

✞

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg so a wonderful person elected to draw fanart for this fic please check it out its really amazing! :3  
> http://someone-will-lose-an-eye.tumblr.com/post/39275003435/crossdressing-stripper-dirk-for-handbagmurder-from
> 
> thank you so much you are a fantastic human being i hope you find twenty dollars in your jeans pocket xoxo


	9. INTERMISSION: JANE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO after some discussion with a dear friend ive elected now to do a small 'intermission' arc, which will be three chapters of about this length with focus on the three other kids besides jake, in order to i dunno... add some kind of depth and variety to the plot. 
> 
> i wouldnt reccomend skipping the intermission? important plot points people! they are contained herein, and thus i present to you janes intermission chapter. bueno!

Saturday dawned bright and bubbly, as did Jane who pulled herself out of bed at six so as to be in the kitchen by seven, baking breakfast muffins and humming lady marmalade under her breath. She had grand plans for the upcoming evening, a celebration of sorts, which she and Roxy had been planning for what felt like an age. Plans to go out on the town, to enjoy some sights and good food and music, and as it were the promise of a change of scenery and novel social interaction had her light footed and optimistic, almost above and beyond the complicated affairs of such a small and petty town.

Jane had never been crazy for the place, always feeling at the back of her heart a distinct ache for the friends of old who never write and the kids her age who got to go shopping with their boyfriends and buddies each weekend. Visiting Seattle on occasion was not the same, because no matter how good it was at the time there would always be that unspoken promise that she would have to return, and when she did who was there here who might be of interest to (or interested in,) a lass like Jane Crocker? There was no one. Absolutely no one at all. The boys here were all either sunbaked or weird, and her experiences with flying through crushes (her mild and irrational interest in Gabby several years ago had not been the only in a list of shames) had been poor at best. Not even Dirk seemed like a viable option, mostly on account of his personality, and Jake though unfairly attractive was absolutely out of the question. Nope nope nope she wouldn’t even THINK about that (although she did so way more than she would have liked to admit), and really, if she was going to be brutally honest with herself, the reason she had been looking so forward to this night out with Roxy was the same reason most teenage girls do anything: boys.

Jane wanted to go out, get prettied up, and meet some boys. Preferably ones who didn’t chew tobacco or wear a rosary. Tobacco probably made for bad kissing and rosaries suggested a distinct reluctance to even _do_ kissing, at least they did in this place. Maybe tonight, if she could find someone interesting, she wouldn’t have to worry about Jake flitting around in that sort of dreamy muscular way he did any more. She wouldn’t have to scold herself for leaning on the windowsill so she could watch Dirk work in the yard with sweat running down the back of his neck. She wouldn’t have to lie on her bed at night with her arms around her chest and feel frustrated on every conceivable level and more. At least for a little while.

She was so lost in her fantasy of a tall, dark and handsome stranger that she didn’t even hear her father come in, his feet shuffling slipper clad on the floor, his weary morning ponderings drawing him to the pantry and the packet of instant coffee on the top shelf. She jumped, a sudden flood of scandalised guilt filling her, when she heard the pantry door shut behind her and snapped around, her whisk falling into the egg she was beating with a plop.

“Morning Jane.”

“Morning?”

It was rare to see john up at this time. He usually slept in on Saturdays, watching re-runs on comedy central and drifting in and out of consciousness, until he received a collect call from any given location in the world at some time in the afternoon. It was tradition. A rite of passage for the week. A _thing_.

Yet there he was, looking ruffled and somehow managing to achieve ‘teenager who just woke up’ despite the fact that he was clearly in his forties.

“… you’re up early?”

“I was hoping to catch you, actually. I need to ask you a favour.”

He set about making himself coffee, and Jane narrowed her eyes suspiciously. A favour… what kind of favour? That didn’t sound too good…

“Oh?”

“I need you to deliver a message for me, to town. Can you? I have other things I need to do today. Dave’s here soon and I need to sort stuff out a bit before he arrives.”

“Uh… I suppose that would be possible? What kind of message?”

“Oh, just a letter. I wrote it up you just have to hand it over. Nothing difficult.”¨

Oh, okay then. A delivered letter, that shouldn’t take more than half an hour. Jane thought she could spare that before she had to get ready for her night out.

“Sure. Who’s it for?”

“Kane.”

Jane froze, a sense of horror so completely disproportionate to the situation filling her it was nigh laughable.

“ _Kane_. Why him? He’s so…” Jane didn’t have any words.

Every single person in St. Lukes knew Kane Vantas. Everyone. Even if they didn’t want to and rest assured that most of them did not. He had a certain reputation around the place, not just as a non-churchgoer but a complete and utter dick, and although Jane disliked him it wasn’t because she thought he was unpleasant so much as the fact that frankly, he simply did not know how to shut up.

Kane Vantas had some serious social justice problems, and the thought of having to approach him with anything, anything at _all_ that may be remotely controversial (and Jane would bet her favourite mixing spoon that whatever her father wanted her to deliver would be extremely controversial, or at least opposing to his side of the affair) was enough o make Jane pull out her hair. She could hear him now, his nasal high-and-mighty voice with its obscenely large vocabulary and unnecessarily florid accent, telling her in great detail every single way in which John’s argument was floored, biased, offensive or just plain wrong as opposed to his own neutral and allegedly holy opinions.

Ok, she was exaggerating. Kane wasn’t _that_ bad. But he was pretty bad and knowing that if he saw her putting any sort of message in his mail box she would be completely out of action for at least an hour, because she was just too goshdarned polite to say ‘shut up’, inspired a humungous dread in her very deepest core.

“Aw, not Kane! I don’t want to… he will talk my ear off I know it and my entire day will be a grand waste!”

“Not your _entire_ day. Please?” John pulled out his best ‘old man puppy eyes’ and Jane could have thrown a small tantrum. She was too soft for this…

“Could you please do me this favour? Take Jake with you, if you are so concerned about it.”

“What possible use would he be?”

“Well, scientifically speaking I think Kane will understand almost immediately that Jake is a lost cause. If he starts talking to you then just cram the boy in there and you should be righty o. I mean, when he realises that Jake doesn’t even know what the word ‘socio-economic’ means he will probably just give up. I would.”

Jane rolled her eyes. Jake was a bit slow. He wasn’t _that_ stupid was he?

“Dad, I don’t think it works like that. Also, that’s not scientific and also, give him some credit he’s actually kind of smart?”

“Who? Jake or Kane?”

“Jake.”

John regarded her soberly for a good ten seconds over the top of his glasses and she tried not to let her straight face expression falter. No such luck.

After a short bout of the giggles and a hearty warm laugh from John, the two calmed down once more and tried to resume their serious conversation, albeit with slight smiles curving their lips.

“Ok no seriously though, take Jake. He won’t have anything to do today cause Dirk’s not around, and I don’t have the heart to make him clean windows.”

“Yes yes okay, I will take Jake.” Jane conceded, thinking that maybe at least Jake could be an excuse to get away early, if she did indeed have the misfortune of being caught slipping the message through the mailslot (which she almost certainly would; Kane watched his mailbox like a hawk). Besides, Jake was nice company and…

No, okay she wasn’t going to think about that that’s really gross and if she kept having those thoughts that sick little twist in her gut was going to end up as a full blown retch someday soon.

She resumed the measured whisking and mixing and folding of her muffin batter, deciding with a stern scold to her hormones that she would stop by Jake’s room at about nine to see if he would be willing to accompany her on her journey.

John finished making himself a cup of coffee, told Jane he would leave the letter to Kane on the dining table for her to take, and shuffled his genial way back to bed.

❀

 

At nine on the dot Jane ascended the stairs and headed down the right wing of the house, opposite to the side in which her bedroom and bathroom were located and much more receiving of the sun on an early July morning. The carpet under her feet was barely trodden and the paintwork on the walls plain, undecorated and impersonal, but she was so used to living in this empty neutral space that she didn’t even notice, reaching the door of Jake’s room and giving it a short, sharp knock to check if he was awake in there.

He didn’t reply, so she assumed he was not. Still probably catching up on sleep from the other night then?

Biting a soft chap-sticked lip, she dropped a hand to the knob and twisted it, edging open the door.

The first thing Jane noticed when the door opened was that the room had, over the short period Jake had occupied it, absorbed a rich unmistakable perfume that could really only be described as the scent of ‘boy’. It smelt kind of sweetish, kind of bitter, a little bit like aftershave and mostly like sweat, but it wasn’t unpleasant in fact it almost made her hesitate to enter, her pulse elevating and the hair on the nape of her neck prickling in interest.

But then she told herself to harden up for goodness sake, and she pushed the door in a little further, so as to poke her head inside.

And Christ almighty was it _hot_. Did Jake never open the windows?

Tisking Jane entered completely, door ajar in her wake, and regarded Jake sprawled face down on the rickety old bed with her hands on her hips and a clucky look on a pretty young face. She thought that like this, Jake really did just look like an oversized child, with rippling arm muscles and slight five o’clock shadow on his jaw. His glasses glinted on the side table, catching the only thread of light that permeated the dim through a gap in the drapes, and his breathing threatened to break into snores should he slip a little deeper into dreamland.

He was out. Out to it completely, and warily Jane edged around his bed to the window, throwing back the heavy drapes and feeling under the sunbleached lace curtains for the latches to crack them open. It was too hot in here, she was sweating already.

Jake stirred, the bed creaking under his weight as he rolled over, and Jane was suddenly struck by a brief fit of panic. What if he would be mad at her for being in here? She shoved open a window and snapped back around, clasping her hands demurely over the top of her apron (which she was yet to remove) so as to observe the man stirring from his rest.

Jake woke like a kitten. He screwed up his face and cracked open bright green eyes, his hands fisting and rubbing away the crust in the corners. A long groan escaped him and Jane pressed her lips together observing, waiting for him to regain consciousness enough to ease from the bone cricking stretch he had started.

“S’at you Miss Jane?” he spoke with a cottony voice and released all his muscles, collapsing back onto the bed and gazing at her, a dopy smile all over his face. She cleared her throat.

“Yes, it is.”

“You know how to wake a man better than Dirk does.” He sighed and raised an arm to push mussed hair off his brow, and his sheets rode down over his bare abdomen. Against white cotton his brownish skin seemed like that of a pacific God, his body a striking example of a man. Excusing the slight pouch of a beer belly still concealed by rumpled sheets, that is.

Damn him. Damn him and his perfect physique and gentlemanly charms and complete obliviousness, especially when he sat up and the sheets slid down, and it became quite obvious by the naked V of his hips, visible above a modesty line of white, that he was wearing no underwear.

Jane swallowed and found the words to express what it was she needed to say.

“My dad asked me to go into town today to run an errand and he suggested I invite you along.”

“Will Dirk not be by later then?”

“No, its Saturday. He does his own thing on Saturdays.”

“Oh…” Jake looked pensive for a moment, but it wasn’t a wise sort of pensiveness it was a slow vacancy that began to develop gradually toward an expression of understanding. “Okay. Well, at what time was it you intend to depart?”

“Twenty minutes perhaps.”

“Just enough time for a chap to wake up! In that case, I would be most delighted to accompany you Miss Jane. What time is it anyway?”

“Nine oh two.” Jane made her swift way back around the foot of the bed, toward the door, before Jake could decide it would be clever to get out of bed all together and give her a mighty great eyeful of the whole goddamned meatshop. “So be smart about it. I have plans this afternoon.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, though, just before she made to leave, and was unperturbed to feel his unfocused green eyes on her as she went. At least, she thought with a sense of relief, she was becoming accustomed to the smaller things; she probably wouldn’t be doing very well for herself, if she started flushing every time he gave her an uncharacteristically direct look. “Okay?”

“Aye aye captain Jane, twenty minutes.”

She nodded approvingly and departed, and only once she was a few steps down the hall did she hesitate, take a deep breath and reflect on how _strange_ her cousin was, how childish and innocent and clueless, before composing herself and heading back down the stairs to divest herself of her apron and check on the muffins in the oven.

 

❀

 

Jake was four minutes late and Jane was halfway up the stairs to fetch him when he reappeared, his hair damp in a manner that suggested he had only yet had a shower, and no breakfast. Good thing then that Jane had brought with her two of her muffins and a banana, and she thrust them both upon him with little ceremony when she met him on the stairwell.

“Oh, what flavour are these?”

“Bran and blueberry. Come on we don’t have all day.”

She smoothed her hair back and bustled back down into the foyer, and Jake examined the food in his hand with a sort of pleasant surprise on his face.

“Talley-ho then.” He bounced down the last few stairs, his battered black Chuck Taylors (which he had dug out of the depths of his suitcase) squeaking on the polished wood floor. Jane, standing by the shoe rack next to the door and securing a pair of dolly red buckled shoes on her stockinged feet, gave him a small smile and reached for her sunhat on the hook next to johns various jackets. She almost took the ridiculous cow boy hat down, the one that Jake had expressed interest in wearing on that first day she took him into the village, and scoffed at herself for it.

“Right… could you please go into the dining room and grab the envelope off the table for me?”

A pocket pat, an envelope, and a quick ‘are you _sure_ you have everything you need’ later the two of them were jumping into Jane’s old car, Jake winding down the window immediately so as to let a coolish breeze into the hot cabin, and buckling up tight.

“Say, you don’t think you could drop me by the Gentleman’s club do you? Or is it a little too early in the morning?”

Jane gave Jake a sideways, distinctly discomforted look. Was that the only reason Jake had agreed to accompany her? For some reason this idea hurt a bit more than it should; there was something about the male libido that made her feel slightly insecure, and although Jake had the right to enjoy the occasional visit to a seedy joint Jane wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about it. Or think about it. Or acknowledge it as a thing that existed. And she _particularly_ didn’t want Jake using her as little more than a taxi service on his journey to getting his rocks off.

Besides, it was so much more appealing to think of Jake as a child, with sweet long lashes and a endless purity, than it was to realise that he too had the capacity to sit and drool over women with hips that _weren’t_ slightly larger than their shoulders, and breasts that didn’t sit a little crooked without a bra, with little conscience. She had seen him that first afternoon, after all, and she had felt a stone of embarrassment for him when she heard of his mis-directions the other night, but despite this past experience with the detail she still struggled to get her mind around it and formulate a calm response.

“It would be too early, of course. Also, if today is the first Saturday of the month it will be closed.”

“… oh.” Jakes face fell, and he checked his phone. Saturday the second. “Dash it all. That’s a shame.”

“Why did you want to go, anyway? You can get beer from the supermarket.”

“Oh, no reason no reason.”

He turned his face toward the window and Jane thought, with a sour turn at the corner of her mouth, that he sounded and looked as guilty as all sin in his silly little cargo shorts and a black tank top. When did Jake started wearing tank tops anyway? Not fair. That shouldn’t be damn well allowed. She sighed heavily and started the car.

They passed the drive in silence, and Jane let her mind wander from the road as she drove, something she should NEVER do but she did it anyway, distracted by the anticipation of driving down that other road tonight, toward the big city, towards excitement and colour and cheerful people and not having to be back in this stupid place until morning. Ugh… unfortunately, she had to go to church, in the morning.

What it was that Jake was pondering as they drove was to Jane, a mystery.

They arrived in one piece however, so no one ever needed to know about that dire concentration trespass, and Jane pulled up by a small house located on the outskirts of the area and quite close to a thick clutch of woods in which bees buzzed and birds sung. Jane had been here maybe only once before, although she knew what house it was ( _everyone_ knew what house it was,) she did check the address with the one written on the envelope in her pocket.

It appeared to be correct.

“Who lives there?” Jake inquired pleasantly, and Jane sighed and shut off the ignition.

“Just a person I have to deliver this to. Once I’ve done this we might stop by the coffee shop too, I’m in town now I may as well organize things with Roxy for tonight rather than wait to text message her.”

“What’s happening tonight?” Jake seemed puzzled, but Jane just shook her head to inform him that she wasn’t telling. She hadn’t wanted to let Jake know anything about her plans tonight but Roxy really was notorious for not answering her phone sometimes, and she couldn’t really pass up the opportunity to have something in her life properly organised before the whole affair was underway. What time to pick Roxy up for example, what to wear, that kind of thing…It would be a first.

She sighed and gave Jake instructions to stay in the car unless the house owner came out, and then he was to call her back and make excuses for them to leave.

“Oh? What for?”

“Because I’m too nice to do it. Please?”

It took Jake a moment, but when he understood a goofy grin leaked across his face, his gapped teeth cute and only really amplifying Jane’s opinion of him as some kind of bunnyish youth.

“Ah I see! You need a gentleman companion so as to avoid any particularly formidable interactions do you?”

“… Something like that.” She opened the car door and hesitated, making sure that there was no twitch in the curtains at the windows. No sound to be heard…

Perhaps she was in luck, because there appeared to be none. Kane may have been working, she thought as she made a dash for the mailbox, slammed her letter into it (not forgetting to turn up the little red kite on the side, she was after all dreadfully polite,) and bounded back to the car as though at any moment his voice might leap out from behind a bush, grab her, and suck her in.

She was almost delirious with amazement when she made it, and sitting in the vehicle looking rumpled and breathing as though she had just ran a marathon, she didn’t even care that Jake was looking at her as if she had been seized by some mighty madness.

“… I did it.” she breathed softly, relief flooding her and making her actually giggle at her foolishness. Jake simply sat on, his brows furrowed and his lips parted in question, and she flopped over her steering wheel bonelessly and laughed. She laughed and laughed and she almost cried, because how sad a life was it that she lead; the greatest thrill available to her these days was the life and not so death mission of delivering a letter to Kane fucking Vantas.

 

❀

 

After a short recovery period, where Jake didn’t know what to do so he just kind of awkwardly say there and patted Jane’s back while she laughed hysterically, she managed to compose herself and wipe her eyes on the sleeves of her white button blouse.

“I’m sorry.” she sniggered, instantly composing herself, and avoided looking at Jakes face because she knew that if she did, she was only going to start howling with laughter and pain and stupid teenaged bullshit again, and she didn’t want that. Oh no sirree.

For Jane Crocker was a woman of temperance and control, of rational thought and calm action and little shamed her more that breaking down, particularly in a manner so lascivious as _that._ Frankly she would rather briskly put it behind her, and never speak of it again.

And therein lay Jane’s problem, a tendency to bottle it up, to numb herself and carry on in order to maintain control, and it tended to _work._ Those rare moments where she could not restrain herself and her despair bubbled forth through her sweet natured very organised veneer were treated in very much the same way she treated her period; it was something that came with being Jane, something unavoidable that she had to contain and conceal and accept as inevitable, and it was not the first time that she had successfully managed to suppress a doomish fissure in her attitude and substitute it with a forced brightness that soon became a real brightness. Or at least she thought it was? She wasn’t sure.

Jake, thankfully had enough tact (or not enough tact) to ask if she was okay. He simply accepted it too, a little bewildered, and unable to make sense of the reason that Jane’s white knuckle grasp on the steering wheel did not loosen as they returned to the heart of the township and pulled up outside of Roxy’s place of employment, (across the road from Jake’s beloved harem hut) and what a relief that was because was it _ever_ going to be a stinker today. The coffee shop would sell bottled water, right?

The bell tinkled when they entered, and Jane made a swift businesslike line toward the counter before she realised that Roxy was not there, and she hesitated, a little bewildered by this turn of events.

It was Jake who tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to a small table in the corner, at which two young persons of a radiant blonde were sitting, nursing glasses of juice and speaking in a tone that seemed very deeply intimate. At least, more so than Jake would have expected. He made a surprised little sound and posed a question that made Jane sigh with impatience.

“I didn’t realise that Roxy and Dirk were friends?”

“You’re joking Jake. Roxy is _everyone’s_ friend. Besides, his brother is friends with her mother. They’ve always been really close.”

“… Oh.”

Jane clucked and pulled usheringly on Jake’s arm.

“Come on then, let’s go over there.”

It was with the awkwardness of teenagers that they edged through tables, though Jake was obviously the better side of twenty, and in transit Jane even managed to knock over a sugar still with her behind. She would have remained there apologizing profusely for hours had Jake not placed a hand on the small of her back and pushed her forward toward their friends.

“Good morning!” He made quite a clumsy attempt to interrupt them, and honestly Dirk seemed shocked to hear his voice today, on a Saturday he had been counting as Jake free, but Roxy perked up immediately and snapped her face around, her eyes wide, her perfect lips parted in pleased shock.

“J-man! Janey! Hello lovelies what brings you here today?” she smiled and her teeth glittered perfectly. Jane had always been envious of Roxy’s teeth; she was sure that Roxy had never worn braces, and probably never even had a filling either. Lucky for some. “Come, sit with us! We were just discussing our plans for this evening.”

Jane’s face, already pinned up with feeble pins of optimism, fell obviously and she was struck by an unfair sense of betrayal so deep that she didn’t even notice Jake awkwardly trying to move two chairs from stray tables up to the tiny space. She didn’t even observe the way Dirk seemed to sigh acceptingly before pushing him away with an authoritive hand and adjusting the seats for him. She didn’t even notice Roxy swear when Jake mistakenly stood on her foot, and then laugh when he conjured some obscure quaint curse from deep in his lexicon to echo it. Why would she mention their plans to Dirk? _Why would she do that?_ It was supposed to be a secret girls evening for them! Alone!

And then Roxy says the thing that really only makes it worse.

“I invited him with us, if you don’t mind. And hey, maybe Jake could come too!”

And of course, Jake damn well said ‘sure’, and Jane had to contain the long groan of annoyance that this sudden change of plans had brought to the tip of her tongue.


	10. INTERMISSION: ROXY

“What were you and Dirk talking about before?”

Jane had been worryingly untalkative since the coffee shop reunion, and Roxy was actually surprised to hear her voice over the jazzy music she had put on when they arrived. Her round barrel brush hesitated in its smoothing through Jane’s short dark hair, the pretty curls shining in the warm bright light pouring through the lace curtained window, and Jane cleared her throat softly, sheepishly, shuffling in her seat

It had been Roxy’s idea to drag Jane to hers for pre-party makeovers, because Jane’s face had been miserably long that morning at the café. Not even animated discussions between Roxy and Jake about what the city was like, and the things they would be able to get up to that evening, could brighten her mood, and distinctly discomforted by this Roxy had been seized by a need to rectify the situation as soon as possible. Even though she had managed to get Jane to open her mouth, though, she didn’t seem any better. If anything, she looked _worse,_ sitting on one of Roxy’s pretty make-up chairs in a borrowed silk robe. Pink was not her colour; being swaddled in it seemed to suck all the energy out of her countenance, and if there was a place in the world one would be unwise to go, should they be adverse to the shade, Roxy’s little attic bedroom in a small villa townhouse was it.  A shame… it was troublesome a thing, trying to help cheer someone up when it’s impossible to know what’s on their mind.

Roxy sighed, not exactly sure she wanted to answer and divulge Dirk’s problems least they only add to Jane’s, and tried to tip toe her way around the topic instead. She set the hairbrush she was holding down on her dresser and flicked a stray blonde tress off her face.

“Talking are we Janey Poo? There I was thinking I’d made you upset or something. What’s wrong?”

“Nothings wrong.” Jane twisted her lips into a pretty knot and Roxy rolled her eyes, raking both her hands through Jane’s soft hair.

“Are you sure? You sure you sure? You super duper double sure?”

“Yes I’m _sure._ ”

This was very doubtful. With the tiniest disbelieving shake of her head roxy found herself reaching for the glass of cranberry and vodka she had pre-emptively poured herself (she liked to have a little tiddle while she was prettying herself up for a night on the town) and taking a mouthful to give her something to do. She would have offered Jane some, but she knew that Jane wasn’t a big drinker, particularly not of vodka, and so she replaced the glass without thinking among jumbles of pretty items on her dresser without even asking before offering her response.

“If there was something wrong you’d tell me right? BFFsies and all that?”

She wished that Jane would be a little braver, a little bit more honest and forward, when it came to sharing what was on her mind. There were times in which she felt like she was the only straight forward girl in the world. In fact, between Jane and Dirk it wasn’t hard to believe that she too was drowning in the silliness that was youth. Perhaps ‘straight forwardness’ was a concept that didn’t really exist at all. An illusion, if one pleases.

Oh, why couldn’t everyone just have a drink and _relax_ a bit. Gosh, the whole world took itself to seriously sometimes.

“Of course.” Jane, sighed and lifted her eyes, so as to meet Roxy’s in the reflection of a  spotless looking-glass decorated with long strings of plastic beads and a few pendants. “But really though. Why were you and Dirk talking? And why did you in-“

She cut herself off and Roxy bit her lip, beginning to understand that perhaps she had made a mistake inviting the boys. It hadn’t _seemed_ like a bad idea, but sometimes it was hard to be sure. Roxy was first to admit, she could be pretty impulsive…

“Why did I what?”

Jane shrugged.

“Nothing…”

A long weary sigh escaped Roxy, and she dropped both her hands to Jane’s shoulders, bowing to drop a brief kiss on the crown of her head.

“Jane, please tell me what’s wrong? It’s what I’m here for.”

Jane made a pained noise, as though she was struggling to choose between spilling and keeping her lips sealed tight, and after a soft whine from Roxy imploring her to say something she relented.

“I just… I was under the impression that it would be just us girls tonight you know? Spending time together and sharing girl stuff like… boys and things. I don’t know…”

“Boys? What boys?”

“Just…” Jane went extremely pink and Roxy’s eyes widened. She lent forward, resting her chin on Jane’s head, and lifted two fuchsia nailed hands to pinch lightly at her cheeks.

“You like someone Jane? Is there a _mister_ Jane out there I should know about? Oh em gee is it Gabby again? I told you about him Janey he’s weird you don’t want that. I mean you _less_ than want that you want to put as much space between you and _that_ as you possibly can. That is what you want there.”

Jane’s eyes fluttered and despite her friends fingers pulling her face she couldn’t bring herself to smile.

“It’s not him.”

“Is it… Rufus?”

“No.”

“Michael?”

“Who? No.”

“The boy in out algebra class last year? Um…” Roxy looked quizzical and straightened up. “Is it…”

She gasped and looked down at Jane directly. _That_ would be a scandalous complication indeed!

“Is it _Dirk_?”

“No! What? Dirk is much too old! It’s not Dirk it’s-“ Jane whined in frustration and bent forward, elbows on the dresser, head in her hands. “it’s just…”

Deep breaths, a big swallow.

“It’s Jake, okay? It’s Jake, and I’m really… it’s hard to explain because it’s not _like that_ but also it kind of is and I’m really just completely tired of him and his presence and me being _here_. I was looking forward to a night out Roxy! Just us…”

Roxy had to pause to try and make sense of what she was hearing.

“It’s who?”

“Jake. You know… my cousin? Kind of attractive… too dumb for his own good?”

“Oh.” Roxy frowned and glanced sideways at her friend, who had lifted her head from her hands and was looking at her with eyes as blue as the sky in the mornings, lashes long as they came and lips so petaled Roxy could have just had a tantrum in envy. She had known Jane long enough to know that look, that resigned weariness that threatened tears, and in the end decided she would be wiser to try and comprehend exactly what Jane was implying before she said anything. At this point, it sounded as though Jane was trying to admit she was having a clandestine and somewhat cabin fevered crush on her relations. Roxy didn’t think that was _quite_ what she was meaning. Was it?

“Janey, I don’t understand. Take some deep breaths and tell me what’s the problem. Let me see what mama Rox can do huh?”

Mama Rox indeed. Roxy had not a single clue what to make of this. She hoped that once again it would simply be a matter of miss Jane making a mountain out of a molehill.

Jane huffed and turned back to the mirror, fussing over her bangs in the reflection. Once again, she was stabilizing herself and Roxy could see it in her face. The effort she pot into setting her jaw, and hardening the look in her eyes.

“I just… I don’t know it’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

She took a deep breath, and her eyes flicked down onto Roxy’s dresser in search for an unknown item amongst the others.

“I’m just… frustrated, I supposed. Bored and twitchy and I really juts feel like I need a change. And tonight, we had made plans to make a change, even for just a while, and you bring Dirk into it. You bring Jake into it… and I’m not angry at you I’m just despairing because sometimes it feels like I can never escape this place or it’s people, you know? Tonight was supposed to be my moment, and instead the townsfolk are following us around like puppies.”

“Well…” Roxy didn’t really know what to say. For sure, that had been _miles_ from her intentions but when Jane insisted on being so clammed up it was hard to know what effect her actions had. She frowned and rummaged around on her drawers, locating the tube of cherry red lipstick that Jane was looking for and passing it over. “That… hadn’t been my plan you know babydoll. I just invited Dirk along ‘cause he’s been having a bit of a silly time lately. You know… adult stuff. He’s our friend too!”

“Well, yes I suppose but it’s just…”

 _Jake_.

Roxy tisked and smoothed Jane’s hair, watching her stroke the red lipstick onto her lips and pop them half heartedly to even it out.

“Janey, Jake isn’t even _from_ here. He’s an out of towner! He’s like a doorway to the real world, you know. You should enjoy him. Hang out with him more… maybe practice flirting a little I don’t know! He’s cute. But you know he _is_ the same age as Dirk so by your standards that does make him ‘old’.”

“Yeah he’s also my cousin.”

“He’s still cute! It’s not like you’re gunna marry the guy I mean face it he’s not really the marrying type is he. Well, he is. But he wouldn’t be good at it. I’m not gunna lie there might be a chance he doesn’t know where babies come from.”

Jane ignored this attempt to lighten the mood.

“He reminds me of everything I want and cannot have, he’s like this massive green eyed memo that my life is going nowhere and I’m stuck in a horrible town and I just… he _chooses_ to be here! And I think a lot of that annoys me. Because he could be anywhere. Anywhere else in the world…”

A wistful expression stole over her face, and Roxy’s heart squeezed in empathy; having grown up in Manhattan had worn Roxy weary of the busy hustle and bustle of the city, she actually _liked_ dreary little St. Luke’s, but then she always had the option to go back. There was little that really bound her to the place, besides the fact her mother lived here; having dwelt in the big city as part of a private boarding school had given her roots far far away, and she could spread them wherever and whenever she wished.

“Awww… okay Janey I hear you. But hey, how about this for an idea then. One day, once we’ve graduated, we go to New York you and I. We can have a flat, and have a shared bus pass, and we can run away and away as far as you want away and find some hot man friends with some hot man bits and we can get drunk and party hard and have a great time. Okay? Also, Jake doesn’t have to come.”

Jane pouted and replaced the tube of lipstick, rattling around now for a tube of mascara.

“I guess…”

“Huh? I can’t hear you sweetie.”

“Okay! Okay, fine. That sounds… lovely.”

Roxy beamed and gave her shoulder a light squeeze of delight.

“There you go then!”

And though she had said it on a spur of the moment, and though she had hardly thought about it when she did, she suddenly found herself wishing it true with every inch of her heart. For Jane’s sake.

 

♔

 

Jake looked pretty tight, when Jane drove them both to the house to get him, in a pair of neat jeans and a green v neck shirt, and if there was one thing Roxy Lalonde thought was delish on a broad chested guy it was a v neck shirt of any kind; especially a Tee that accentuated rippling arms.

“Dirk not with you ladies then?”

“Nope,” she craned her neck around, it was hard to converse with passengers from the front passenger seat, and shot him a glowing grin.  “We get to go pick him up. You two have to share the back seat… fun times!”

Indeed, two fully grown men were going to face severe difficulties fitting into the back of Jane’s wagon, but in some ways Roxy suspected that that would be half the excitement. She was really looking forward to seeing Dirk manoeuvre his way in there, with his stony expression and awkward rigidity. Some part of her sincerely wished she had brought a camera

Apparently, such difficulties occurred to Jake as well in a moment of uncharacteristic brilliance, and his eyebrows lifted almost to his hairline.

“Well, I believe it should do be! This car isn’t exactly large is it?”

Roxy laughed her cheery, easy laugh and grabbed her plastic drinkbottle out of the cupholder between the two front seats of the vehicle.

“Want a drink?”

“What is it?” Jake eyed the bottle suspiciously and Roxy wiggled her eyebrows.

“Jim Beam and orange juice.”

He pulled a face and shook his head just a little, as Jane pulled out of the drive.

“That sounds… fascinating.”

“It’s not the greatest,” Roxy admitted, unscrewing the lid and swallowing a mouthful. “Serves me right for being experimental right? You can have one of these if you like.” She tapped the small bag by her foot with three other plastic drink bottles in it with the toe of a pointed pink stiletto, even though Jake couldn’t see it. “Two vodka and cranberry or a screwdriver. But I wouldn’t recommend picking that one cause dirk might get a _weeeeee_ bit shitty. He doesn’t drink anything else so…” Her head was starting to feel a bit tingly already, and beside her she could see Jane’s hands tighten on the steering wheel in annoyance. Was her volume edging up a bit high already? Oh dear. And it wasn’t even seven pm yet!

“Oh. Well, gosh. I appreciate the offer but I might just have a beer when we get were we are going.”

“Pfff… party pooper.”

Roxy had another mouthful of her drink and replaced it in the cupholder. She wondered if Jane would mind turning on the radio. She was in quite the little mood today, to sing.

 

♔

 

The first thing Dirk asked when he struggled to get in the back of the car next to Jake, was whether or not Roxy was drunk, and if so, to what extent. This just sent her into a spiral of giggles and Jane heaved a heavy sigh, leaning over her lap to find the drinkbottle with the screwdriver in it and pass it over the back.

“She’s not _drunk_ , but she’s tipsy. Are you two comfortable back there?”

“No.” Jake told her, shuffling as far as he could against the door so as to make room for Dirk’s weirdly long legs.

“Hell no.” Dirk took the drink bottle and set it carefully on the middle and unoccupied thirty centimetres of space between the two of them as he fought to buckle his seatbelt; one of the old fashioned ones which didn’t extend when it was pulled but rather needed to be adjusted.

Roxy sniggered and thought that Dirk probably didn’t mind _half_ as much as his steel tone indicated.

“Okay, well should I move my seat forward a bit for you?”

“No, it's fine I got it.”

He secured his belt and Roxy reached for her sunvisor above the front window, flipping it down so as to see the two back passengers and their awkward stances, almost shoulder to shoulder but not quite daring to touch each other. Jake looked amiable and bright, and Dirk seemed as composed as ever as they pulled out of his driveway, leaving the small cottage style homestead he lived in behind, and Jane unconsciously pushed her foot down a little harder as they headed back down toward the highway out of here. Roxy bit her bottom lip to contain a snigger, when Dirk tipped his head a little and even though she couldn’t see it she _knew_ he caught her eye from behind his shades. The faintest ‘fuck me right?’ curl appeared at the corner of his lips. She glanced at Jake’s reflection to make sure he was otherwise occupied (he was looking out the window actually, trying quite hard not to encroach on Dirk’s space), before lifting both her hands and shaping them into a wonky heart against her breast in the reflection. Dirk forced his lips straight, and shook his head so minutely she almost could have believed he didn’t do it at all.

“I like your jeans, Dirk.”

Jane broke the silence that filled the car with an amiable comment, and Roxy realised for the first time that indeed, he did appear to be wearing jeans that were not ripped at the knees or grubby. In fact they could almost have been brand new, and they suited him and his plain white button shirt well. Roxy concurred whole heartedly.

“I like what you did with your sleeves too D-stri. Show us those guns?”

“Hm?” he cocked his chin and pushed rolled up sleeves further up his arm, so as to show more skin in the humble flex he performed for her entertainment. “These guns?”

“Yeah those guns… hey Jake what do you think?” she pulled her seatbelt down some more, (if she kept doing so, she may as well simply not have had one) and struggled to look at Jake who appeared to have sunk into a state of mental distraction.

“Huh?”

“Dirk’s arms. Pretty sweet amiright?”

“Oh, well, they aren’t bad I suppose.” He flicked a glance in the direction and then brought forward his own significantly thicker limb. “Excusing the peculiar tattoo. But I do believe that I am he with the superior weaponry today.”

Dirk scoffed, and it was the sort of noise that made Roxy want to squeal to hear because it was not his usual condescending tone but an almost affectionate one; something about that struck her as deeply adorable. He dropped his arm.

“And I suppose you know everything there is to know about weaponry then, do you English?”

“Actually I do know a fair amount! I think you would be surprised.”

“I doubt that.”

“Actually,” Jane cut them off, clearly listening to the conversation but admirably keeping her eyes and attentions trained on the road simultaneously (one must _never_ take their eyes off the road, after all). “I hate to be the first person in history to prove you wrong Dirk, but Jake is an accomplished marksman.”

Dirk’s face of easy confidence fell to an expression subtle enough to pass as indifference, but Roxy recognised instantly as abject horror. Jake donned a very attractive expression of humbleness. Roxy laughed.

Dirk Strider was a man of a million capabilities and an intellect the envy of an Ivy League graduate, but his capacity to flirt, so long as he maintained an air of superiority and borderline awkward stand-offishness, was and always would be an approximate zero.


	11. INTERMISSION: DIRK

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i got distracted by irl things im so sorry omg please accept this sacrifice in the name of the yaoi gods <3

He knew he shouldn’t have told Roxy anything.

He fucking knew it, and now he was slumped in the corner of the car, in a state as close to a sulk as Dirk Strider was ever going to get, trying to ignore the way that Roxy had managed to coerce Jake English into not only drinking one of those bottles of vodka and cranberry, but to join her in a hearty round of 99 bottles of non-alcoholic-beverage on the wall. He would have appreciated the irony of that song selection, and the fact that the innocuous tune really did appear to be driving Jane _up_ the wall, but he was much too occupied brooding, regretting his poor decisions and thinking that, really, things would have been so much easier if Jake English didn’t exist.

He sighed, tried not to kick Jake as he rearranged his legs, smoothed the lint of his brand new jeans (which he had been dying to wear for absolute months, but dared not to don for just any old occasion) and settled down once more with his gaze out the window, his thoughts a million miles away.

The city to which they were journeying was not big. It was not small. It was hardly a city, really, so much as a town that may have taken a little too much cocaine, and suddenly exploded in population overnight. There were a few clubs, and some good shops, but Dirk couldn’t really find it in himself to be enthused about this more than he could find it in himself to be excited about St. Lukes; even if the place was larger, and a little more colourful and bright and lively, it was still only a small place. There would still be little room for an individual to be an individual, alone and contented in his own little corner of the world.

That was probably what Dirk hated about the village of St. Lukes the most; the fact that even in his little house, a long way away from ‘civilisation’ he was never alone, yet he found himself feeling lonely almost all the time.

St. Lukes had a vibe about it, he supposed. A vibe that sun-dried everything, made the citizens lazy and accepting and dull, and no matter what Dirk did to change this, no matter how hard he worked or bizarre how his means of working toward an unspoken goal became, no one else ever seemed to notice or care.

It was enough to make him want to gnaw his nails to the quick, a habit he had just managed to kick, and if it hadn’t been for Jake’s sudden arrival in his life maybe Dirk would have been able to keep on as he had been. He would have been able to keep working toward what he wanted steadily and regularly, and then one triumphant day seizing it, rather than sitting here in the back of a car filled with an utterly despairing sense of urgency that he could not control or rationalise, and little way to manipulate his goddamned way out of it.

Well… kind of. Not really.

There was only one thing in Dirk’s life that made him feel like he had any power at all, though he would sooner cut off his own nose than admit this, and he could hardly use this thing as a means to conquer Jake. He wasn’t sure he could. That just… didn’t seem fair.

Fuck his morals. Seriously.

Or maybe more to the point, fuck Jake, with his stupid foreign accent and his stupid brightness, which seemed to morph the very fabric of the scenery around him. Fuck Jake, and his experience, and his crooked smile, and his naive ignorance of what lurked beneath the amiable surface of a small-town, religious community that threatened to slaughter people like Dirk Strider because of what he was. What he is. What he would always be.

And also, as a thought on the end there, fuck Jake for being attractive too. That really didn’t bloody help.

Dirk wondered if perhaps Roxy teased him because she didn’t understand, or because she thought it might have cheered him up a little, even though it really, really did not. For some reason, telling her about his problems (only the surface of his problems really; Dirk was too narcissistic to admit that he might have issues further than a trifling crush on a boy who looked straight fucking through him in most circumstances) hadn’t helped, so much as it had left him feeling childish, powerless, and embarrassed. Like a ten year old child. And if there was one thing Dirk didn’t like, it was feeling like a ten year old child.

Too giggly. Too soft. Too silly and ditzy and just ridiculously clumsy, because looking cool and calm came as easy as breathing to him usually, but when Jake was around it was like he was constantly trying to put his foot in his mouth. On purpose or something. And he certainly was not. He liked to think that no one had noticed yet, especially not Jake, but now he had told Roxy it was probably glaringly obvious and a chink in his armour like that? Unforgivable. He had to regain control. Calm down a bit. Take some deep breaths and tell himself over and over that soon, Jake English would be out of his life and he could carry on building his bridges and battling for his ambitions, which lay still and sleeping, just out of reach.

 

☣

 

By the time the carful of youths arrived in the town, it was almost dark; street lamps lit boulevards and avenues filled with throngs of teenagers and adults, and the bright neon signs of the strip streets blinked against a the navy blue backdrop of the sky. It was too bright for stars, which Dirk thought was a small shame, but this was easily compensated by the energy that seemed to hum along the streets. Dirk thought that maybe, in some other life in some other world, he might have been a man of this atmosphere, a man of the clubs and of the darkness, feeding the people with the beats and drinking in the sound of the bass like Roxy was emptying the last bottle of vodka cranberry. A prince of the night, with countless men and a million shots, and Jesus fucking Christ suddenly he was struck by an overwhelming urge to get drunk. Drunker than he had ever been in his life.

He decided to kickstart this by reaching for the undrunk bottle Jane had handed him when he got in the car, and as the vehicle turned into a public carpark not far from the brightly lit main street, he downed half the bottle in one go.

“Not bad, Strider.” Jake was watching him, apparently unaffected by the liquor he had already consumed, and hoping he could pass off the warmth spreading over his face when Jake addressed him like that as alcohol-induced he shrugged easily and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Can’t take this in with us can I? Has everyone got ID?”

“Sure do.” Roxy held up a pair of cards, which made Jane look a little uncomfortable as she turned the key in the ignition and undid her belt, and Dirk took them off her to check.

“They’re fake.”

“No shit.” Dirk thought they looked pretty good, and he would have asked where Roxy got them from but it wasn’t like he was going to need any illegal paperwork done any time soon, so he simply passed them back and turned to Jake. “What about you?”

“I sure do! Gosh, I learnt my lesson last time I tried to get in somewhere with an age restriction.”

“Hm.” He patted his pocket briefly, to make sure that his wallet, and by extension his ID, was in his jeans, and with his half drunk bottle in hand he unbuckled. As did the others in the group.

“Where to first?” Roxy asked, and Dirk shrugged downing another quarter of his beverage. He was a bit of a light weight, Striders tended to be, and he hoped that the bouncer at whichever club they decided on wouldn’t notice he had already drunk something before they got in. Soon he would hear his voice begin to slur as he spoke.

“Stellars?”

“Sounds like the kind of joint I’d go to at home!” Jake seemed enthusiastic about this suggestion, and Dirk looked to him in puzzlement.

“And what exactly defines a bar that ‘sounds’ like the sort of place you’d go at home?”

He shrugged and pushed his glasses up his nose casually.

“Sounds like Sheila’s. That was a strip club in my hometown.”

And when Dirk felt the entirely irrational and completely uncool urge to laugh at this he knew that the alcohol was starting to get to his brain.

“Let’s not go to strip clubs,” Jane requested of the carload impatiently. “We have one of those at home and we can get in there any time.”

Roxy giggled and Jake held up a finger.

“Not on the first Saturday of the month though.”

Wow. Jake was funny when Dirk was tipsy. He had to take another drink (effectively emptying the bottle) to prevent an embarrassing ‘haw’ escaping him. Real smooth Dirk. Make a donkey noise. That’s hells of attractive.

“I think there’s a male strip club by the river!” Roxy announced shrilly, and Jane winced.

“The boys wouldn’t like that.”

“One of them might.”

Dirk could have punched her, a stone of cold shock dropping into his stomach, but seeing as Jake obviously thought she was referring to him he decided to just leave it be and glare at her later.

“I’ve only been to a strip club a couple of times you know, ladies!”

“I know, my mom saw you.” Roxy turned around in her seat and reached for Jake’s face, her finger tapping the side of his cheek affectionately. “But come on, we need some serious suggestions. Dirk you must have some kind of idea!”

“I don’t know.” Dirk told her, and Jane tapped her hand on the steering wheel testily.

“Can we discuss this outside please? It’s kind of cramped in here and it’s not nice having Roxy yell in my ear.”

“Ahhh! I’m sorry, Janey. Here let’s just… get these doors open.”

She almost fell out on her way, and Jake laughed. It was kind of uncomfortable, how well he and her seemed to be getting on…

Dirk shook his head and pushed open his door too, and then Jane, and soon the four of them were out standing in a strange city on a lively night, far away from the familiar, languorous rhythm that was ‘home’.

 

☣

 

Dirk jumped when he felt Roxy hook her arm through his, their passage down the lively main street not hindered by her wobble in sparkly heals. They passed by many a cluttered bars and queues for stylish night clubs, but their destination had been decided and Jane was leading the group toward the wharf; the small restaurant and bar in town was glinting in the distance, through wavering energy and liveliness. The crowds leant a distinct sense of reality to an animated backdrop of posters and brick walls and cigarette smoke coiling on high drifts of cool air. Parties of pedestrians huddled outside of institutions, some of them looked to the small group as they passed and Dirk held Roxy closer to him while Jane and Jake swayed confidently ahead, probably discussing something duly sober and boring, while dirk allowed himself to feel an envious resentment in an alcoholic mind.

“How you doing?” Roxy asked him in an exaggerated whisper. “You’re walking a little rigid there, sweetheart. If I didn’t know better I’d swear cupid shoved his arrow right into your asshole.”

“ _Rox_.”

“What? You’re just walking real weird right now is all. Uptight and stuff. Relax a little. It’s all cool.”

Dirk didn’t think it was cool at all, but as he walked and made an effort to hiss reasons as to why it was inappropriate for Roxy to nudge him toward Jake as the evening might progress, all he got in return was a dismissive huff and a casual comment about how he was ‘almost as straight edge and uptight as your brother’, and that shut him right up because wow. Hey. No.

Leave Dave out of this, that man and Dirk were nothing alike. As much as Dirk liked his big bro, there were some things about him that he liked to distance himself from. A tendency toward being overly dramatic and anal was one of them.

The bar with the sign above the door reading ‘stellrs’ was not particularly busy that evening, because the night was still young and door charge was yet to be initiated, so the four of them managed to get in quickly and hassle free with the aid of Roxy’s cards and Dirk’s very best ‘I’m stone cold sober and if you’re gunna argue I will punch you in the dick’ expression.

Inside, the place was hardly rocking.

“So I’m going to suggest that we install ourselves in a booth for the evening while they remain unoccupied.”

Jake, the expert at clubbing and social eventery, spoke up, indicating to a table in the corner where, sure enough, Dirk could see himself sitting for most of the night with several screw drivers and a pint of self pity at very much the same time as he started heading toward it. The music in the club was still low, and a few persons in their evening spangles milled around the dance floor between tables toward the bar, waiting for the clock to strike eleven and the influx of people to send the place rocketing into a chaos of sound and dancing and the reassurance that tonight, at least, every single person in the building was alive.

“He’s right,” Dirk decided, heading after him and dragging Roxy in tow. Jane tottered behind, still glancing anxiously around as though a security guard might arrive out of nowhere at any moment and realise that her ID had been fake when she had flashed it at the door. “If you girls want to give me your bags while you go dancing I can stay sat there and watch them. That way you don’t have to worry about them.”

“Oh what?! No, Dirk baby, you have to dance!”

Dirk should have known that Roxy would think that was a bad idea.

 

☣

 

Oh, thank god for sound.

Thank god for the pulse of the baseline under the soles of Dirk’s shoes and for the impatient throb of electronic notes which begged synchronisation from an unpredictable mass of bodies and unified them, if only for a little while. Thank god for the anonymity which was not enforced by strict man-made rules but instead by nature and instinct and the urge to move in accordance with a group heartbeat.

Dirk lost himself easily in the sound of dancing, in the loudness that pumped even in his corner table and filled the spaces between his ears with resonant sound and distraction. With his mind a million miles away and his leg tapping absently with the tunes playing at the front of the club he remained in perfect suspension, imagining nothing but colours and speed and distance, and somewhere through the crystalline projection of purpose the song instilled in him he heard a voice arching in his ear which pulled him back down to earth.

“Dirk?!”

“What?!”

“Could you do me a grand favour and pass me my wallet? I would be most appreciative of another beer!”

Dirk huffed and dug his hand into his jeans for Jake’s wallet, where he had stuffed it when the boy entreated he hold it and save Jake the trouble of carrying it up onto the dance floor with the girls. Jake thanked him, and Dirk watched him shamelessly as he bounced away toward the bar, his shoulders broad and his body described sexily in the flashing lowlights.

Hot. Very hot.

He tried not to think about the way those shoulders would feel under his hands, or the way his nails could leave lines parallel to Jake’s spine and darken already golden skin. He tried not to, but given the loudness of the atmosphere, there was no room for anyone to hear his thoughts and he found himself relenting to them eventually anyway. It was a pleasant experience, and he didn’t even realise he was chewing his bottom lip in fantasy when Jake returned and placed not just a glass of beer on the table, but a glass of orange and vodka too, with two skinny white straws and a few cubes of ice.

“I thought I would join you for a bit!” he had to yell, to be heard over the music. It was strange to see his face bathed in blue and silver like this, his brow glossy with sweat in a way that made Dirk feel a little bit lightheaded, actually. The dampness at the edge of his bangs was something that Dirk had never considered erotic before and yet here he was. Appreciating it. Wondering about the way Jake’s eyes would burn if he brushed it off his forehead.

“Yeah whatever. This for me?”

“Yup.” Jake dropped next to him and lifted his glass of beer, before downing almost half of it in one easy mouthful. Dirk grimaced, the smell of beer unpleasant and wafting, and reached for his own drink. He stubbornly refused to allow himself to be flustered about Jake’s buying it. Now the edge from his earlier drinks had worn off, it seemed weak and embarrassing a thing to do.

“Cool. Thanks bro.”

“Not a trouble in the world my dear chum-meister. Say, why ever aren’t you dancing? I dare say you would be swell at it you know.”

Dirk shrugged, almost failing to ignore Jake’s frustrating tendency to leave him vulnerable to powers of suggestion.

“I don’t dance.”

“Oh come now, I’m sure that’s a lie!” Jake’s eyes scanned the mass of people, their bodies thrashing and their energies clashing. Roxy and Jane were in there somewhere, but where was a mystery. “Are you sure I can’t tempt you to dance?”

“No. You can’t tempt me.”

Dirk was absolutely resolute.

He took another mouthful of alcohol. 


	12. INTERMISSION: JAKE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i betad myself today because kay is moving and i didnt want to disturb her slash add to her workload, so please excuse any disgraceful mistakes.

 

Jake was one of those men who fancied himself quite the conversationalist, when tipsy.

Dirk, on the  other hand, was one who struggled to hold his liquor.

Although Jake had no way of knowing, as the two sat and worked their way to the bottom of a large jug of beer, it was probably true that Dirk was approximately twenty times more horny and drunk than he had any conscious recollection of ever being at this point, and he was growing steadily more so with every mouthful. Jake did not think much on how the other mans words, usually so gruff and to the point, were swiftly beginning to fall into rhythm with his own sloppy speech, but the undoubtedly satisfying thought that suddenly he found himself capable of conversing on an equal intellectual standing with Dirk Strider did begin to occur to him after a while.

“Say Dirk!” he was still having to shout to be heard, but as he got drunker he noticed less and less. “Have you seen the girls around? I might have to go and rejoin them soon.”

“Fine. Whatever. Fucking ditch me then.”

“No I mean, you really ought come with me! It would be a well jolly affair don’t you think? Why did you come out, if not to have a little bit of fun?”

If he was going to be honest, a flat refusal to go out on the dancefloor with him was somewhat insulting and irritating. He received a filthy look, from behind shades that flashed with different coloured lights as the strobes shuddered, for all his well-meant efforts of persuasion.

“Why not?” Dirk told him. “Cause it beats staying in the shit hole, amiright? What else would I be doing? Sitting around trying to suck my own dick.”

Wow. Inebriated Dirk sure was candid.

Jake lifted his eyebrows, watching the man opposite him unravel a little, his hair rumpled and his face flushed, as he reached for the last of the beer in the jug and emptied it into his glass. Bitter foam glugged down the sides of the jug, and Dirk pulled a face of revulsion as he lifted it to his lips and drank. He probably wouldn’t be half as sloshed if Jake hadn’t insisted on buying the stuff, and it had taken a LOT of nagging to get him to actually drink beer, but there was some satisfaction to be had from succeeding in breaking at least one stick in the hefty faggot that was Dirk’s will.

“If that’s what you are into?”

Dirk scoffed, and his mug thumped heavily on the table when he sat it down. Silvery rings of dampness shone in the dim, illuminated by the same slick light that fingered the frown of discontentment on Dirk’s face.

“Fuck off.”

Jake assumed that he was supposed to take this response as a no. He shuffled around a little in annoyance, wishing his company would cheer up a little, and conduct a decent conversation with him.

“This is really top notch you know,” he commented. “You don’t have places like this in St. Luke’s do you?”

He didn’t count Club Heaven. After all, such locales weren’t so much for partying down as getting off, and while it wouldn’t have been unpleasant to hit it off with one of the peacocky women in sequins and stilettos stalking the dancefloor here tonight Jake thought of the girl in the club every time he felt his eyes wander, and found his libido frozen in its tracks by chains of unfair longing. Not okay, that. He would have to sort it out when he wasn’t feeling so sloppy and impatient.

“Hell to the no. They’d shut down a place like that in an eyeblink. Fucking soul sucking piece of piss town… you know most of the kids from there wouldn’t even go if there was. They’d be too _fucking_ chicken shit to give it a go.”

Jake was too touched by alcohol to notice the derisive bitterness concealed under the layers of his voice. Layers that were growing very sloppy and loose, like wet napkins sticking to one another and making a dreadful mess.

“I don’t know? What are the youths like there anyway?”

Dirk shrugged.

“Ok. Normal I guess but fucking whipped. Haven’t you seen them around?”

Jake shook his head, thinking that actually, he hadn’t and that seemed a bit strange. St Luke’s really did seem like a cardboard town sometimes; a cut out, a model, an idea. With no physical bearings and no real people in it besides those who set up perfect storybook stalls on Saturday mornings, and bodiless lights in the windows of precise little houses. His skin crawled recalling the roads so perfectly empty on the evening he had gotten lost; the way the houses had smiled at him broadly with white picket teeth. He shoved it aside and recalled that he in fact _had_ seen some of the kids in the town; in church on Sunday mornings in neatly ironed clothes. He thought about it harder and remembered that even the bargirl from club heaven had looked so distant and unreal in that context though… was he just getting his senses and his thoughts confused, now he was intoxicated?

He realised with a start that Dirk was glaring at him, and shook his head harder to pull himself from his thoughts. He couldn’t recall what he had been trying to get dirk to talk about, and why.

“Dance with me chap.”

“You know a place like that is like a little death, people go in and its so fucking idyllic they never want to leave. They get hypnotized and the kids are just the same…”

Dirk was talking more to himself now, his voice hardly audible over the bass which had either lifted in volume, or resurfaced on top of Jake’s consciousness.

“… They think they are living real good and give whatever the fuck they are told so that they don’t have to give it up. They do what they get told and all that fucking shit its mad. Like some crazy drug or church or cult or-“

“Dirk! Stop rambling! You’re being painfully obtuse and frankly a little silly.” Jake had no idea what he was talking about. He never would have had Dirk fingered as the nutty conspiracy theory drunk. “Now will you be a gentleman and dance with me and the ladies? The night is not getting any younger you know!”

And this time, with his alcohol soaked brain erratic and running at temporary high, he wasn’t about to be distracted by Dirk’s odd look of loathing or peculiar mumblings, and nor was he about to take ‘no’ for an answer.

 

✞

 

Jake leant against the sink impatiently, watching Dirk push wet hands through his hair. His glasses were askew and his cheeks ruddy with drink, but he refused to remove his shades to cool himself properly even when Jake reached out to offer to remove them himself.

“Fuck off man!”

“If you keep the darn glasses on Dirk you aren’t going to cool off!”

Jake was getting really impatient now. It was nearly one thirty and he had been sitting down for most of the evening. Wariness and beer made his usually pleasant demeanour abrupt and impatient, when it finally began touching his brain cells. He wanted to dance and Dirk’s resistance had made this a war because he wanted to dance with _Dirk_. Regardless of how likely he was to hurl all over him. This was purely a matter of pride of course. A challenge that he was more than willing to tackle and absolutely loathe to loose.

“Lessons on being cool from Buddy Fucking Holly over here.” Dirk was mumbling again as he turned off the tap and lifted his face to the mirror, his hand swiping drips of water off his chin and jaw. “’course Buddy Holly was actually talented I mean I dunno why I made that connection… fucking hell… Jesus…” he leant against the sink, his face suddenly passing dread pale, and hunched his shoulders in an effort to ground himself. “Fuuuuuuck I’m drunk. Don’t listen to me Buddy I’m really pissed.”

Jake rolled his eyes impatiently. Approximately ninety nine percent more sassy than usual today.

“Jake.”

“What?”

“My name is Jake, not Buddy. Now will you please come _on?_ ” he stretched out a hand to secure Dirk’s wrist and tugged the other man toward him firmly. The tiled floor squeaked under the soles of his shoes and he slipped, a sudden jerking motion that seemed unreal in the violent fluorescent light of a bar bathroom.

Dirk mumbled something incoherent and fought to free his hand, but followed Jake messily out the door (which had muted the chaos outside so sweetly while closed) before spilling with him into the tide of heaving bodies and people dancing to the music. Jakes concentration was honed, and over the bitter taste in his mouth he was resolved to have fun. Usually, drunken people didn’t affect him. Usually, he enjoyed going out but Dirk was giving off a funk like an overcast day, his mood influencing Jake’s demeanour uncannily and dragging him all the way down and he didn’t know why. Through boozy haze he thought that this unconscious power over his emotions reminded him in kind of the way that that stripper seemed to make him feel so small and so enchanted without his consent, albeit in a much more uncomfortable and invasive manner. Mind, Dirk had that effect when he was being haughty too… he was obviously just a very overbearing personality then, with a certain something that induced empathy, and awe. Nothing special right? Nothing like the helpless attraction that short circuited Jake’s emotions when he was within thinking distance of that beautiful girl from the club.

He realised that Dirk had stopped trailing him, and was secured to his shirt with a balled fist. The wall of people around him bordered on impenetrable, and he ceased trying to fight his way through to turn back to his companion and regard him. Roxy and Jane had long since vacated his memory.

_‘What?’_  His voice was completely inaudible over the music, which he could feel pulsing through his shoes, and his partners face was almost indistinguishable from the bright colours and shadows that clogged his perception as he regarded the packed dance floor. _‘Have you deigned this an appropriate dancing locale then?’_

Dirk said something, his mouth moving mutedly, and Jake struggled to keep up and make the relation between the shapes his lips formed and words.

_“WHAT?”_

Dirk shook his head and swayed sideways dangerously. He would have fallen over had someone not danced into him, making him glare and shove them away. Jake definitely did not miss recognising the shape of his mouth as he grumbled complaints about fucking assholes who couldn’t watch where they were going.

And then a technical question arose, which made Jake endlessly more self conscious than he should have been and wonder how it hadn’t occurred to him before:

How did one dance with a guy? Was it the same as dancing with a girl? Even though Dirk was pretty wasted he didn’t want to go and make a fool of himself in front of him. He was partway through thinking these concerns, frozen in place amongst thrashing limbs and dizzying music that made a man forget what was up and down and right and left, when without warning Dirk came closer so they were almost chest to chest, and hesitantly swung his arms up around Jake’s neck.

He said something into the void of sound and with wide eyes Jake found himself absorbed in watching his lips. They were dark. Dark dark dark, from alcohol. Dirks hips were very bony and obvious next to Jake’s own.

“What?!”

“ _I said you look like you could use a little help.”_

Help indeed.

The floor buzzed under his feet and Dirk held him close, and somehow he was still moving even though he had someone else hanging off his neck. He had a very psychic body; it seemed to predict not just the music but the blurry, intoxicated way Jake would move next, and they spun in a technicolour typhoon through other clubbers and danced endlessly. Dirk knew all the words, or at least he did a good job of pretending.

He looked familiar in this light but recognition eluded Jake’s consciousness. Rather it danced just out of reach, completely unlike the giving, obviously open body in his arms.

And then in a moment of vividness Dirk jerked his face to the side and squeezed the other man tight, and Jake gasped as a dark haired girl feel into them and started howling with laughter.

_Jane?!_

Roxy Lalonde followed.

An impromptu reunion on the dancefloor and Jake didn’t even realise he had been holding Dirk’s waist until he had to back off and slide his arms away. He nearly felt disappointed, at the loss.

“Hey you guyssss!” Roxy’s voice was audible over the music, and several people turned in their thrashing to look at them. “How you going? Getting a little up close and per-son-al on the dance floor?”

Jane lost herself in drunk giggles.

“Fuck off!” Dirk hollered. His voice was jagged and rough and obviously all this shouting would have him with a sore throat in the morning. Roxy giggled and swayed smoothly in his direction, placing herself between him and Jake and lowly moving forward so as to send him stepping away. Jane glided into the place he had occupied and unquestioningly Jake resumed his dance with his pretty young cousin.

He swore he heard Dirk yelling about what the hell she thought she was doing, as the two of them were swallowed by the crowd.

 

                ✞

 

“You were making a fool of yourself gurlfren trust me I know about these things.”

“ _You_ are just a fuckin… fuck… you’re totally wrong, about that thing Rox.”

“I’m like the expert of being the drunk looser I had to intervene!”

“It was nothing I said! Let go of me.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Jane was a sober voice of reason as she dragged Jake toward the parked vehicle at bar close, and Jake barely overheard the hot debate Dirk and Roxy were engaged in over the hood while they waited to be let in through the echo of the music ringing in his ears, but he wasn’t drunk enough to miss the fact that out here away from the context of a club Dirk was positively trashed. He could very easily have made a fool of himself. He wasn’t exactly looking fantastic now, and Jake was glad he wasn’t sober enough to feel second hand embarrassment.

They tumbled into the car, Dirk announced that he may or may not have to spew, and Jake fell immediately asleep.

He remained unconscious the whole way home, even when they stopped twice so that Dirk could stick his head out the back window and vomit down the side of the car. 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this update took FOREVER.  
> tbh i lost a few chapters of it when my coomputer like... died. so im sorry about that. :/  
> i hope i dont disappoint. xo

Morning dawned far too early.

Mornings tend to make a habit of that anyway, but this morning in particular was notorious.

Jake slept very easily through the sun rising, and the chorus of birds singing outside his window. He slept through the sound of the house waking, his uncle bouncing out of bed and getting ready to face the day, and his cousin wandering past his bedroom door once or twice on her way to and from the bathroom, so the floorboards creaked underfoot. Jake would probably have kept sleeping too, if that mutinous clock had ceased its impatient march toward 9.30 am, and his uncle had not deigned fit to wander upside and hammer on the door and shout “Jake! Wake up if you want breakfast before we go to church!”

Jake didn’t want breakfast, and he didn’t want to go to church.

He groaned painfully and rolled onto his back, dragging the duvet over his head to block out the sunlight creeping in from behind his curtains.

Not this again.

It took Jake fifteen minutes to roll out of  bed, pull on some jeans and a shirt that didn’t smell too bad, and make his way downstairs where Jane waited for him, coffee in a paper cup in hand.

Jane of course, looked bright and chipper. Jake was distinctly jealous.

When they arrived at church, however, Jake found himself feeling considerably better. The half cup of coffee he had succeeded in drinking had perked him up tenfold, and the prospect of seeing Dirk and Roxy and perhaps hang out after the service was yet another incentive to look sharp.

The birds were singing, the church bells rang.

It was a beautiful day.

 

.x.

 

In the thick of the sunlight shining through stained glass windows Jake waited in his pew for the churchgoers to file past and depart, their moods not bruised by the bluntly dull sermon that had just been delivered by  a dreamy, completely out of it preacher. Jakes leg jiggled impatiently, and at his  side Jane sat composed with her ankles crossed and her expression barely even betraying how bothersome she found the whole waiting process to be, when it was sunny outside and already half of the day had been lost. Jake craned his neck and sought the other two, but alas in the crowd of persons migrating down the chapel aisles, he had no luck.

“Ants in the old pants Jake?” John looked up from the magazine he had low-key smuggled into the service, and Jake hummed.

“Why must they shuffle so jolly slow? I’m dying to head out and have a rip-roarer in the sun.”

“Hm.” John seemed quite indifferent. He would probably wait there quite happily for an extended period of time. He returned his attention to his magazine.

After a sufficient extension of time, the persons passing by thinned, and Jake perked up in his seat when he spotted a very distinctive shade of pink-- Roxy in a cute pastel sundress, and looking all together swell, if Jake didn’t mind saying so.

 _Hey!_ She mouthed excitedly at him, from the other side of the aisle. _Wanna head out???_

He nudged Jane, nodding in Roxy’s direction, and the two of them shared a significant glance before standing and after deserting John in the pew, resolutely pushing their way into the slow progression of persons heading out. Roxy joined them, and smirking and sniggering they hurried as best they could out.

Outside, where already persons were grouping and clotting and socializing as they made their way to their cars. Outside, where the rare and beautiful moments as long away as its possible to be from more church is shared, except these people Jake suspected didn’t think of it this particular way. No, these people very much _enjoyed_ the services, and this was indicated in the excited way they chattered about it amongst each other. Oh well. Their loss.

“Gosh, I was growing fearful that that may have just gone on forever!” Jake exclaimed, letting his head fall back so that he might feel the sun on his face. Roxy groaned in agreement, and Jane sighed.

“How are things?” she asked Roxy, as the three came to a stop a few feet from the doors of the church and huddled around to chatter. “Where’s Dirk?”

“Oh, I’m fine I’m not even a little hung over this morning. Mister D-Stri however is a different story.” Roxy’s eyebrows wiggled knowingly and Jake sighed, almost a little disappointed? He hadn’t thought anything of Dirk’s absence in the church, and had counted on him perhaps appearing afterward and joining them for a relaxing reflection on the evening been.

A shame.  He was quite anticipating his reporting to Dirk the embarrassing state the other man had been in the night before.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake asked.

“Oh, a bit of a hangover. But I suspect that a guy like him would brave the outside world anyway if it was just that simple. I think, and this is just my _humble_ , yet complexly expert opinion,” she punctuated this statement with a cheeky wink, “that he’s actually a little bit embarrassed. You really had him going last night jake.”

Jane coughed awkwardly, and Jake lifted his eyebrows, trying to comprehend what on earth she could be implying. He would have worked it out eventually, what with Roxy’s expectant grin aimed squarely at him, if Jane hadn’t interrupted his train of thought by clapping her hands together and gesturing that perhaps they ought move along.

“Oh. Right. Sorry Janey. I suppose the two of you want to come by for some lunch?”

“Please. Let me just text dad.”

And with Jane concentrating on fishing her cellphone out from in her bra the three of them headed across the carpark, to where Jake assumed Roxy had parked her car.

Or not.

Hm. How odd.

Jake was bewildered when rather than head toward any particular vehicle, the walk across s the carpark had them heading around the far end of the church, along a skinny gravel path pressed against the rear end of the building beneath the large stained glass window. The one which from the inside overlooked the altar, and externally pressed very tight beside a low stone and mortar fence. The woods swayed and rustled over this fence, and Jake took station at the back as they progressed, his brow furrowed and his head turning curiously so he could take in the cool, oddly quaint space.

“Err, Roxy? Where the jimmies are you taking us?”

“Oh, right. Yeah my house is through here. Look out for the graves some of them are broken and overgrown and you might, ya know. Trip over them.”

They came into a open clearing, a churchyard Jake hadn’t even imagined was there on the opposite side to the carpark, filled with long grass and sunshine and the quiet clicking of cicadas perched on lichen covered gravestones. Angels stood sentinel, and as Roxy led them carefully along the trodden path that overtook the dissipating gravel walkway which had lead them there, Jake cast his eyes over some of the names and dates on almost incoherent plaques. Names he hadn’t ever heard but felt an odd affection for, in the way one feels for the dead. Their destination on the other side of the graveyard appeared to be a gnarled, crippled oak tree covered in ivy, and the creaky wrought iron gate that hung haphazardly beside it. Jake sort of wished that he could linger here in the churchyard, with its shady coolness and the pleasant sound of the leaves all around him, but dutifully enough followed both girls toward this gate, through it, and into yet another surprise: a back garden, with perfectly manicured green lawns and Roses foaming oat of the flowerbeds all around it. The house standing proudly in this garden was an old brick construction, and Jake’s jaw dropped as he regarded it, and the perfectly pretty lace curtains hanging in each black siled window.

“Oh my!”

“Welcome to my crib, Jake.” Roxy beamed and gestured that he should approach the house, and the heavy wooden door facing them. “We’ll go in the back door, but take off your shoes cause otherwise my mom will shiiiiiiit~” she paraded them into the house and dutifully, Jake removed his shoes.

What a house. What a house, indeed.

Jake had no way of knowing, but the Lighthouse as it was commonly called in the town had been built around the same time as the church, and was originally intended to be inhabited by the vicar serving there at the time. Privately sold many years gone, there was much controversy surrounding the ownership and inhabitancy of what many believed to be rightly belonging to Gabriel Makara, and after him his replacement, and so on and so forth indefinitely but this controversy was nothing at all compared to the controversy surrounding the family who now owned it.

Roxy Lalonde had lived there when she was born, and returned only recently, but her mother and her mother’s legacy had by this point become such a part of the house that it had become part of the entity itself. Forever, the two would be inseparable. And not just in the sense that no matter how many years lay ahead of the place, there would never be a day in the future where the scent of Roses that accosted Jake when he entered did not linger in the carpet, the curtain, and the walls. Incidentally, all of these things, despite smelling like they had been soaked in Rose oil for the last century and a half, were precisely the sort that Jake would expect from a house of this nature. The darkwood accents, the low light of chandeliers and the carpet that absorbed a good part of his feet, were all very text book ‘old house’, and so he forgave the smell and tolerated it, for the quintessentiality of the scene around him.

“Nice photographs you’ve got here!” After the smell, this décor was the first thing he noticed. They reminded him of something he had seen elsewhere, but he didn’t think all that much on it.

“Yeah, my mum likes to decorate her house with memories of her youth. Back when photos were still black and white.” Roxy winked cheekily, but Jake could see she was kidding. Many of the photos were in colour, but some did have that faded quality particular to early coloured film processing.

While Jane and Roxy passed through the foyer, toward what Jake assumed was some kind of living room area, he lingered, and let his gaze fall on some of the images.

He could make sense of none of them, just faces he had never seen in places he had never been but strongly suspected were around and about the area. After a while he followed Jane and Roxy into the lounge.

 

.x.

 

Jake was never really ‘about’ tea. He had always been more of a beer or soda sort of a guy, but he felt rude declining when he was sitting in what could only be described as a tea room, with fancy squishy sofas and bay windows and hand sewn cushions under his rump. Roxy’s mother seemed to keep a hot water kettle in the room, on a bookshelf and plugged in discreetly, in the same manner as any normal person would keep a few bottles of whiskey or similar, and the tins lined in ranks of ten or twelve on the shelf  by the retro TV and under some weird pagan looking wall decal (a pentagram or something… Jake wasn’t comfortable looking at it what with his Christian upbringing,) seemed to contain every sort of tea bag and leaf under the sun. He didn’t protest when Roxy procured him a cup of vanilla tea, and served herself and Jane steaming cups of blueberry concoction.

“There’s this lovely one you have to try, Janey. Its cotton candy flavoured.”

Jake sipped his beverage, and thought this silly ninny girl nonsense would probably be more palatable if Dirk was here too, drinking some orange peel oolong, but as a gentleman it was his job to partake and tolerate. Besides it didn’t actually taste too bad... Maybe he could find the curiosity in himself to try the cotton candy tea too, once he had finished this cup.

“So,” Jane posed gently, reaching for a coaster and setting her teacup carefully on the coffee table between the sofas they had claimed. “What did you think of the sermon?”

Roxy hawed dramatically and downed her whole teacup as if it was some kind of shot. Actually, knowing Roxy as Jake believed he was beginning to, he wasn’t all together sure he would put slipping alcohol into her cuppa past her.

“Bullshit my sweet precious Janey! Utter drivel. But then again, when is it not?”

Jane mumbled something and dropped her eyes. Jake was beginning to suspect that although Jane surely felt a strong dislike for the organised religion in this town, she wasn’t as prepared as Roxy to outright state her disdain. Then again, she didn’t have a wiccan slash feminist witch slash whatever it was symbol hanging in her former-churchmans-residence-loungeroom. Jane respected order, and she was sweet and restrained more often than not. Old fashioned traits in some ways, but ones Jake felt affinity for. He decided he may as well offer his support of Jane’s unsaid opinion.

“Now, Roxy, you charming lass. Surely you don’t think that the belief that keeps this town well oiled and chugging along merrily is totally worthless? I don’t care for it myself but you know. Live and let live?”

Roxy rolled her eyes.

“Yeah I guess people can believe what they want to believe, but I really don’t want to partake in what they reckon I should u feel me?” Jake hadn’t really believed it was possible, for a person to vocalize the letter, rather than the word, but somehow Roxy had succeeded. “You and Jane are pretty laid back about it but I’m not so convinced that telling everyone that of they don’t believe the word of some trinity weirdo they are going to burn in hell is healthy! It’s kinda oppressive. Real talk. You feel me?”

Jake shrugged, and had another mouthful of (delicious) tea.

The sermon that day had been discussion of heretics and pagans, and how they spoiled the bushel of the LORD.

“If you want to talk to someone who really actively spits on the kinda beliefs they teach in this place Jake, you ask D.S. He’ll tell you _all_ about it. You know one time he got so effed off about it all that Janey got actively offended. Didn’t you befsy?”

“That was a long time ago.” Jane insisted, folding her arms across her chest. “Besides, he was out of line.”

Jake kinda wanted to ask what he said, but he left it because Roxy was suddenly interrupting him by snatching his teacup and observing that it was only half empty.

“Drink up Jake! Gosh you can’t even finish a cup of tea. Disappointing!”

“Hey! I’m drinking as fast as I jolly well can.” He drank faster, all the same.

Roxy and Jane turned their conversation to lighter topics. Specifically, Roxy’s planned Christmas vacation in NYC, and Jane’s longing to come with. She probably would in the end. All she would have to do is ask her father, and he would throw the money at her.

Jake turned his attention to the photos which decorated _this_ room.

These ones were considerably easier to examine.

For one, they were a lot less intimidating with their humble frames and faded colours, and the one which captured jakes attention primarily, a pretty average photo of four people at a bar that looked weirdly like the bar in club Heaven, was sitting innocuously beside a lamp on the side table. Actually, it even looked like it had someone recognizable in it! Sure, he looked a lot younger, his black hair a lot shaggier and his moustache a thing yet to sprout, but Jake suddenly understood why people so often told him that he resembled his uncle.

He didn’t even recognize his mother until Roxy caught him looking and pointed her out.

“Our parents knew each other.” She jabbed a finger over her shoulder at the curvy teenager, with long black braids, flanking john and the blonde guy he had his arm around. “That’s your mom, and that’s mine.” Her finger drifted to an older looking women, with cat eye liner and a sharp look about her. She looked like one hell of a vamp. A Milf, if Jake was going to be honest about it. But he didn’t think much; too busy looking at his own relative printed in dusty old chemical colour. She was shorter than Jake remembered, and her hair a bit longer. The main difference though was her expression. Jake could never remember _not_ seeing her looking resolute, and hard as a fucking rock. Here she seemed bubbly, smiling, and not at all like a gun slinging outback queen she would become. Perhaps that was why Jake didn’t recognise her.

“See that guy?” Roxy raised another point of interest, directing his attention to the other man in the frame. “That’s Dirks older brother. Or at least he calls him that. It’s a bit of a foggy area but _I_ think he’s Dirks daddy. Which would make Dirk my cousin and not my uncle like my mom always told me. Scandal scandal, right??”

“Uh huh…” Jake furrowed his brow, staring hard at the man, taking in his blondeness, his faint freckles, his perfect grin. He looked weirdly familiar to Jake, in more than one way he was sure. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was something about his jaw and those shades and his nose…

At first he though the man looked like a younger version of a movie director he knew of, but he dismissed that entirely because gosh, how silly and whimsical. But once that was done, he still couldn’t shake the feeling. By comparison, Roxy’s gossip about her and Dirk’s cousin slash uncle-niece dynamic had been completely unstartling, and he brushed it off with a thoughtful “have you asked Dirk what he thinks about that?”

“I really don’t think he cares. Dave’s always just been ‘bro’ to him, even if it did turn out to be legit.”

“Hmm…” Jake spared a last lingering look at the photo, which had raised more questions than expected, before returning full attention to Roxy and Jane, who was flicking casually through a TV guide that had clearly been used as a coaster. His stomach rumbled.

“Roxy? You wouldn’t by any chance have some food or consumables, would you? I seem to remember you mentioning something about lunch?”

 

.x.

 

They were making toasted sandwiches when the sound of the door slamming made Jake drop a slice of buttered wholegrain bread onto the shiny wooden floor, and the cat sunbathing lazily on the windowsill jumped and almost fell into the sink.

“Roxy!”

“Yooooo mama?” Roxy called back,

“Come help with the groceries?”

With a exaggerated sigh Roxy stopped making Jane’s toast and licked the crumbs off her fingers.

“Gimme a sec.”

She gave Jake a light punch on the shoulder, on the way out.

If Roxy’s lounge was like a teashop, her kitchen was like a library, stacked and cluttered with books of all kinds and old teapots and baskets full of knitting needles and wool. Old posters decorated the walls, with Lovecraftian movie images from the 40s and 50s adorning them, and yeet more Roses in vases on the bench, the table, and the windowsill. Jake thought it was cottagey, and cute.  But definitely not the kind ofnplace he could live. It was a little too soft and vintage around the edges. Jane blended in well though, and judging by the way she smiled at the door when Roxy and her mum appeared she had been a second daughter there for most of the time she had lived in saint Lukes.

Jake was too started though, to actively observe this.

“Hello Jane. And also… Jake! Hi!”

The woman laden with plastic bags and car keys, jingling merrily as she entered, was in fact so very similar to Roxy now that they were standing side by side, he wasn’t sure how in the world he had managed to miss it before. She looked different to the photograph, of course, but upon recognition it only made sense that they were the same person, and realising this suddenly made Jake English _very_ embarrassed.

“Jake! Hi! I was wondering when you would do us the pleasure of stopping by.”

“Ohhhhhh~ Jake Jake Jake care to enlighten us on how my mom and you know each other?” Roxy brought up the rear with more bags, and Jane hurried forth to assist her in dumping them in spare spaces on the table.

“Uh… well, you see…”

“Jake has been by the club a couple of times. Its nice to see you in my own kitchen. Care for a cup of tea?”

“Uh, no thank you! Roxy has already done me the pleasure.”

“’Course she has.” Rose smiled and peeled off the long white gloves she had been wearing, the fine leather indicative of how well her little business must do in this, a ‘religious’ township. “Where’s Dirk, Roxy? I needed to talk with him.”

“He’s sick.” Roxy was already rummaging around in the bags, hunting for and finding the marshmallow fluff in the bottom of one.  “Like, waaaaay hung over. Got a little soused last night did mister Strider.”

“Oh.” Rose looked somewhat put out. “Okay. Get your finger out of that!” she snatched the jar of fluff off her daughter and set it on the breakfast bar. “Has Kaye been home yet?”

“Nope. Where  is she ?”

“I saw her drive past when we were on the way to church.” Jane offered, making room for Rose to pass into the kitchen, and gesturing for Jake to sit down at the kitchen table with her and Roxy. Which still paralyzed with embarrassment, he did. Oh lord. This was awkward. Rose knew he went to the club, and she knew _why_ (or at least she thought she did,) and while he had been relatively convinced of the fact that Roxy and Jane had a general idea of his directions, he didn’t care to have his private, dirty laundry of sorts, advertised and clear for all to see.

“Yes, I suppose so. She went to talk to Kane. My god, that man is possibly the _worst,_ most irritating excuse for a human being I’ve ever met.”

“Is he still giving you problems Rose?”

“Yes! That letter your father wrote did nothing. I’m worried I will have to take legal action and I _know_ I have no grounds to do that. I need to talk to dirk about perhaps persuading him…”

“Mom!” Roxy seemed shocked and amused simultaneously.  “You cant just send Dirk to rough someone up for you!”

“I never said rough up! Dirk is just… a much better negotiator than I.”

Rose sighed, and leaned against the kitchen bench top. Jake thought briefly that she looked very tired. Immaculate, sure,  but tired.

“Excuse me?” he piped. “Would it be particularly out of place for me to inquire… who is this Kane person, of whom you so fondly speak?”

Roxy snorted, and Rose sighed once more.

“Kane is our landlord. Not for this place, for the club.  He’s getting a wee bit troublesome for us, I don’t think he cares particularly for our outfit. Kaye and I are looking at moving but we’ve yet to find a suitable location…”

“He sounds _quite_ awful.”

“He is.” Jane mumbled. “if you can imagine the most pretentious, idealistic, egotistical college grad in the world, with approximately half the deeds to property all over town under his belt and no clue as to how to handle any of them, then you can begin to comprehend just a little of his overall personality profile..”

“Worst part is he’s only in his twenties and he’s not even particularly unattractive. Sad how all the eligible bachelors in this town are gay or assholes.” Roxy held  her hands up in a ‘what are you gunna do’ manner. Jake chuckled.

“I think that’s true of all locales my friend.”

He of course remained oblivious, as to which category Roxy was convinced he fell under.  Primarily because he was oblivious to his own status as any sort of eligible bachelor.

 

.x.

 

It wasn’t until Jake had wrapped himself up in bed that night, hovering just millimetres away from blessed sleep, that he suddenly became aware of wherefrom  he recognized the fourth and final face in that picture. For much of the afternoon, he had thought that the image reminded him of one he might have seen in a photo elsewhere, an album perhaps in a dusty attic.

But instead now, all he could see was the face which usually entertained his thoughts late at night.

The face was undeniably similar to that of the girl from club Heaven. 


	14. Chapter 14

Dirk seemed to be in better spirits the next day.

That is to say, he didn’t seem particularly hung over.

When he showed up, Jake was already awake and sitting in the kitchen, open newspaper on the bench and a stout blueberry muffin in his hand. He had showered, done his hair, and generally prepared, and it was only nine thirty. He was feeling quite good about his accomplishments, actually.

It was a shame that the local newspaper had nothing of interest to say.

The Saint Luke’s Press was, for anyone in the know, essentially good for one thing and one thing only- fire fodder. Most citizens kept stacks of them in their basements, awaiting the winter seasons, and it seemed that the reason for that was very obvious. Not much news happened in a small town. The contents of the nine page publication was more or less exactly an extended version of the church bulletin handed out on Sundays. The article on the front of this particular edition proclaimed ‘CHURCH TO HOLD 4TH OF JULY CELEBRATIONS NEXT FRIDAY’ and underneath in a slightly less important looking font: ‘Notorious sin den in central suburb set for closure.’

He had been reading that article, with an uncomfortable feeling of guilt and anger in his stomach, when Dirk appeared.

“Don’t waste your time.” He interjected, yanking the paper out of Jakes hands and tossing it onto the table. “It’s awful. If you want real news get your ass online.”

“Well I was just trying to waste some jolly time.” Jake sighed and turned in his seat to regard his companion, who had taken to wearing a white t-shirt and cut of jeans today. “I see you are feeling alright now?”

“Yeah. I was sick as fuck yesterday dude you don’t even know.”

“Well, you were quite deep in your cups my dear chap! Potted I dare say! Not that I should be one to talk either. I was getting a little woozy there toward the end myself.”

An odd expression passed over Dirk’s face, and his cheeks coloured in a fashion not at all excusable as sunburn.

“I’m sorry,” he informed Jake stiffly. “I didn’t mean to make an idiot out of myself…”

“Oh no Dirk! Not at all! I had a smashing good time and I hope you did too!”

He shrugged.

“Not bad. Want to head out?”

“Sure.”

They caught John coming in the front door as they left, he was looking quite sweaty and tired in bike shorts and running shoes, and upon interrogation he offered explanation to the nature of ‘I thought I would go for an early morning jog.’

“Bad idea,” he informed them cheerfully, and short of breath. “I haven’t been running since I was twenty four and I have no clue as to why I thought I still could have! What were you boys planning to take on today? I heard you had a rough weekend, Dirk.”

“Don’t talk about it. I thought we would get up on the veranda and do some of that repainting on the top floor windows. Just gotta get the stuff from the Ute.”

“Oooh! Good idea! I’m sick of opening up to air my bedroom and having paint flakes blow in my face.”

Jake was sure he was, because he too had the same problem.

The two of them fetched cans of paint, water based base coat and oil based top, from Dirks car, along with obligatory brushes, masking tape, and paint scrapers, and after debating whether or not it would be more proficient to mount the roof via ladder or to simply go upstairs and climb through the windows, they decided on the former. Jake ran upstairs to run the message to Jane they would very soon be on the roof and peering through her window, so don’t be alarmed, and Dirk propped the ladder up against the  veranda.

By ten am they were scraping paint of tired old wood like champs.

…

At twelve, the sun was at its highest point in the sky, and sweat was running down Jakes back like a waterfall. Both he and Dirk had ended up removing their shirts, and Jake could feel himself browning like bacon in a skillet, while before his eyes Dirks pale skin was transitioning to pink, and then angry red, even though Jake could see the streaks of suntan lotion he would have attempted to apply earlier that morning. Mosquitoes buzzed nosily around their work, and dizzy with hunger Jake stepped back from the window he was painting with basecoat, only to notice that he had managed to get more paint on the masking tape and glass than on the actual wooden frame.

Downwards to his left, Dirk didn’t seem to be having any such problem. The lucky sod.

“Oh boys!” Jane’s voice carried lightly on the still air, and over the sound of crickets far away Jake heard a window to his right crack open, and latch in place wide enough for Jane to lean out. She looked summery and pretty, in the singlet blouse she had chosen, and when she craned her neck around to spot Jake he smiled, and gave her a wave.

“You look stunning today miss Jane.”

“… Oh.”” Jane was too busy noticing, her face suddenly slack with shock, that Jake English was half naked on her roof, and she could see not just his broad chest and the slowly receding swell of his belly, but the furrow over his hips which so fascinated her, and the sharp muscles of his back when he turned around to wipe off his brush and call Dirk over. “My. Thank you!”

Soon both men were crowded around the window expectantly, and Jane (still trying to calm herself down) produced two plates with cheese and lettuce sandwiches on them, and two tall glasses of pink lemonade. Jake had never had this particular beverage before, he questioned whether or not it was natural to have lemonade of such a shade, but he drunk it all very quickly and found it to be quite refreshing.

“Here, Jane, be a honey bee and get me anther?”

“Me too.” Dirk passed her his glass, and she signed as if very hard done by.

“Fine. Anything else you would like?”

“A muffin would be great.”

Jane rolled her eyes.

When she disappeared  to get more lemonade, leaving the window open and the lace curtain fluttering out in the breeze, Jake and Dirk sat down leaning against the house, and began to eat their sandwiches, gazing out over the fields which offered a view very similar to that from Jakes bedroom window on the opposite side of the house.

“You can see my place from here.” Dirk pointed to a distant roof, nestled on the horizon. “Technically. You can see the stables from here.”

“So you can.” Jake took a bite of his sandwich. “You know, you aren’t really doing yourself any favours by allowing yourself to burn like that Dirk.” The redness of the mans shoulders had alarmed him since he had first noticed it some half hour ago.

“Yes, I realise that, but what can I do I burn easily.” he shrugs his shoulders, “Hey, is your sandwich okay?”

“Mine’s fine. Why?”

“…” he opened his, peeking wryly between two slices of bread, and frowned. “There’s honey in this…”

Jake immediately started laughing at the notion and misfortune of having been given a lettuce, cheese, and honey sandwich.

“Hey shut up!” Dirk seemed peeved that Jake took pleasure from his suffering. “This isn’t funny dude I’m dying over here!”

“She must have messed them up!” Jake tells him. “Jane puts honey on lettuce sandwiches, so you must have gotten hers!”

“Who puts _honey_ on lettuce sandwiches?! I mean I love Jane but that’s kinda weird.” He set the sandwich back on the plate and Jake sighed.

“Here.” He squished his thumbs into his food, and tried to pull it onto an equal half and half split. Unfortunately, the crust did that thing it does sometimes where it pulls all the way off, and Jake was left holding two halves of a very uneven meal. “You can have half of mine if you care for it? Half ish.”

“Ugh. No. look you’ve shoved your grubby paint fingers in it.”

“Hey! Don’t look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth, my friend.”

“I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth I’m looking at you.” Dirk relented, and took the half of the sandwich he was being offered. “If I die, its your fault.”

“Hey! If you die from a sandwich related misadventure, _then_ perhaps maybe I could be held _partially_ culpable. But otherwise you are on your own, chap.”

“Tsch.” Dirk munched the remainder of his sandwich in silence.

When Jane reappeared with their drinks, they made a prompt exchange for Dirks actual sandwich, and Jake was paid compensated his other half in similar condition (READ: missing half of the crust and a good lump of cheese). With a merry blessing Jane closed her window and left them alone again, both reluctant to resume work as the sun continued to beat down on them.

They finished their food, and remained sitting for about two minutes before Dirk broke the silence of crickets buzzing.

“… It’s hot today.”

“Yeah it is.”

“I should put some more sunblock on.”

“How about some on your back.”

“Good idea.” Dirk erected himself, and made his way down the roof to fetch the bottle. “Here, can you? I can’t reach.”

“Oh, sure.” Jake stood up too, and dusted sandwich crumbs off his shorts. He removed his glasses, checking for smudges, and found a thick smear of paint on the right lens that he had somehow not noticed, or put down to nothing more than fingerprints. Ugh. How annoying. He replaced them without bothering to try and clean them off.

“Here.” Dirk returned, and pressed the bottle of SPF45 into Jake’s hands.

Jake took it, and emptied a good handful into his palm, before he realised the implications of putting sunblock on someone else. He had never had to do that kind of thing before, and for some reason, now he was facing Dirks back, and he could see every freckle and scar, he was wondering whether or not this was a situation in which one might experience stage fright. It seemed kind of weird, to touch the back of someone he wasn’t particularly intimate with, and now he just wasn’t so sure…

“So… I just… get on in there then?”

“What?” Dirk turned his head a little, and from this angle Jake could almost see his eyes. “Yeah… I guess? Here.” He pulled his hair, which had fallen limp out of his normal hairstyle and was actually quite long, aside. “You can do my neck too.”

Oh. Well, that didn’t make it any less awkward.

Flushing self-consciously, Jake rubbed his goo covered hands together and cautiously placed them against Dirk’s shoulder blades. The skin on his back was thick and already pink from the touch of UV, his shoulders were strong and the muscle under his skin sturdy and strapping. Small freckles winked in a galaxy on his shoulders and in that triangle patch of skin where Dirk couldn’t have reached if he had tried, and they paled only slightly when covered by the thin film of lotion administered by Jake’s hands. Only a few centimetres higher, the entire landscape changed- smooth skin, white like snow, shone untouched at the back of his neck, and once Jake finished slathering his back hurriedly so that streaks and smears were still clearly visible close to Dirk’s tailbone and sides, his duty turned to this area. Suddenly it was like he wasn’t even touching the same person.

“… You are very pale.” Jake commented nervously, as his fingers dabbed lotion right at Dirks nape. Dirk hummed.

“Nordic blood somewhere along the line. You should see my older brother. Don’t get it in my hair.”

“… I won’t. Here.” Carefully Jake plucked a fluffy tendril, the sort that usually grows around the hairline, and pushed it up out of the way with his less lotiony hand. “I’m almost done.”

“Great.” Dirk waited until Jake had rubbed the lotion in completely on his neck, before releasing his hair and shaking it out. Where before only sweat had broken the cemementation of his hairspray, now the action of pushing it aside had done so too, and Jake almost wouldn’t have recognised the boy who turned to face him and take the sunblock, in order to slather cream on his chest and arms. Sunshine glinted on his shades, and the faint ghost of sweat glistened on his brow.

“Did you want me to do you bro?” Dirk cocked an eyebrow and held up the bottle questioningly. “You’re already super tanned.”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Jake cleared his throat and turned around. He was glad no one could see what was happening up here, or he might have been very much embarrassed. As it were, he was only a little bit embarrassed as the bottle made a rude noise when Dirk squirted it into his hand, and he sucked a breath when those hands touched the small of his back because shit that stuff was cold!

“Jesus!”

“Don’t be such a pussy.” Dirk rubbed briskly and confidently, getting all the planes of Jake’s back and even running his palm along the waistband of his shorts. “There, almost done.”

He had barely even started, and Jake was taken aback by how swift and efficient his actions were. He had hardly noticed the way that Dirk was touching him, and cryptically enough it was quite pleasant, to have someone rub him down like this. Almost invigorating…

“Right, turn around.”

Thoughtlessly, Jake obliged, and he was startled when, without missing a beat, Dirk began smearing the sunblock all over his collar and upper arms.

“Look at you,” he murmured. “Must be nice to look like this.”

“Hey!” Jake laughed, half in amusement half bewildered that Dirk should behave so forwardly. “Careful there chap! If I didn’t know any better I would say you were complementing me.”

“Hm.” Dirk gave him a cryptic look, intelligible from behind glasses, and secured himself a fresh helping of suncream. “Maybe you could use a wax though. And a little less…” he tapped his finger against Jakes stomach before resuming his careful application to chest and upper arm areas. Sure enough the fine black hairs on Jakes chest moved fluidly with the way Dirk rubbed, leaving patterns on his skin. Jake clicked his tongue.

“That’s more like it. Hey, I think you’re done now.”

Dirk stiffened, as though he didn’t realise that he had been massaging over Jakes pecs longer than he had spent with his hands over the entirety of his back. The lotion was well and truly rubbed in, but still palms were pressed there and thumbs were innocently nudging his nipples, and he wouldn’t have minded if it wasn’t for the fact that he was actually starting to feel the touches. You know, in that way that a person feels that kind of thing.

Carefully he took Dirk’s wrists and lowered them. “We should probably get back to work.”

To say that the casual atmosphere of previously had been truncated was an understatement, in fact Dirks cool demeanour had all but been torn from him. Wide eyed behind his shades, so startled that Jake could have seen it if he had cared to look hard enough, he let Jake push him away idly and pick up his paintbrush to resume.

A misadventure on the roof one fine Monday afternoon.

…

They finished up by about six thirty pm, when the sun was low and orange and a cool breeze began to lift, making Jake’s skin prickle and his immediate response to hunt for his t-shirt. The job had taken much longer than anticipated, and Jake had fucked it up more than twice meaning that Dirk had needed to go back and do it again. Now though, it was done. And Jake was tired and his neck was burned even though Dirk had been so particular with sun block, and he was looking very much forward to enjoying a cool shower.

“Ready to descend then Dirk?”

“Mm.” Dirk had already heaped his equipment into a neat pile. “I’m ready for a bath, actually.”

“Same. Here you go.” Jake passed Dirk a bottle of turpentine and a handful of rags, and together they began organizing what had to be taken down in separate piles in the hope they might be able to do it all in one trip. It had taken two to get it all up here but going down was bound to be more simple.

Alas, not. It took the same two to get the stuff down, and in the aftermath Jake was really quite weary of climbing all those ladders. He helped Dirk load up the Ute, and subsequently offered him a rigorous clap on the back, in the manner of an Australian bloke roughing up a chum. Which incidentally he was.

“Nice work today!”

“Uh huh. You only messed up a whole fuckload. Also watch the burns dude.”

“Oh. Sorry. And yes but that won’t continue in the future.”

“No future man. We are done with painting forever. I _hate_ painting. I’ve been putting off that job for years.”

“I mean in general.”

“Oh.”

Jake leaned against the side of the vehicle and watched as Dirk fussed over his hair in the reflection of his window.   
“Hey, do you want something perchance to slather on the old burns there? I could ask my uncle for something?

“Hmm? Uh… yeah I guess so.” Dirk peered at his arms, the approximate shade of a tomato they were, and they looked _furious_. “Might be a good idea.”

“Hot showers help as well.” Jake beckoned Dirk up the drive to the house. “Makes the red less visible. Could I perchance intrest you in staying for dinner?”

“Don’t be over inviting me English, I don’t want to intrude on your family you know.”

“You wont be intruding! I eat dinner alone anyway. I would like the company.”

It was true, Jake was fast warming to being around Dirk. By this point he was astonished to think that there had been any time he had disliked him.

Dirk stood there for a moment, eyeing him, trying to figure out how genuine was his offer. Fortunately, Jake was not the sort of person capable of faking amiable. He just either was, or he wasn’t. In this case, it wasn’t even a question. He most definitely was.

“A’ight.” Dirk relented, and headed after him, mounting the stairs and kicking off his shoes when he reached the door. “The shower offer sounds fantastic.”

“Not a problem. This house has more than enough bathrooms, I think!”

…

Jake managed to shower, and secure a wide variety of snack foods and beverages, before Dirk appeared in the kitchen still dripping, as though he had pulled on his clothes and shades without even towelling himself off.

“… What’s this shit?” he gestured to the bulk pack of corn chips, and the half empty bottle of vanilla coke Jake had proudly arranged next to a couple of Jane’s stale muffins.

“Dinner of course! Now did I forget to give you a towel to dry yourself or something?” Jake frowned at his friend and his shirt sticking to wet patches on his chest. He took in hair dyed dark by moisture, and almost touching his shoulders as it hung un-styled, and thought that really that could be the only explanation. Dirk shrugged and continued to stare disapprovingly at the food spread.

“I thought you said we were going to have dinner.”

“… What’s wrong with this then?”

Dirk sighed and looked astonishingly disappointed, for a guy who obviously didn’t believe in towels.

“English, you live in a house with _staff_ and you can’t order us a nice meal. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he shook his head and pulled up a seat regardless. “I suppose you called Jane to join us?”

“Uh… no, I couldn’t find her.” Jake was distinctly stung by Dirks coldness. Was he being genuinely ungrateful, or simply teasing? Just when Jake _thought_ he had reached an understanding with the guy, he went and revealed a whole new layer of complexities and mean words and  -

Oh.

Haha very funny.

Dirk tried very hard to look disgusted, but it was at this point that is sardonic mask cracked and he could maintain it no longer, giving way to a fit of sniggers.

“You should have seen your fucking face English.” He reached for the bottle of cola and unscrewed the top. “I don’t care what we eat.”

“… Oh. Well thank goodness! You sure threw me for a moment there, Strider. Merry japes etcetera.”

“God you talk like an old man.” Dirk said it with affection, and the two of them dug into their make-shift feed as outside, the sun set and inside, the house settled warmly around them. Jake hadn’t seen any of his relations since Jane had brought them lunch, and it was somewhat interesting for him to note that as the evening wore on the kitchen light where they dwelt was the only light in the entire house. Had his family departed for some event, and left him here alone? If so, then did that not suggest that he and Dirk had the entire house and its library of DVDs and entertainment media to themselves?

“Where is everybody?” Dirk asked eventually, when the clock read nine fifty three and still neither hide nor hair of anyone else had surfaced. The crumbs of their meal remained on the table, and their conversation had been severed smartly at the end of a discussion concerning the Saw Franchise, and Jake was feeling very full and very content with himself, at that moment in time.

“Not a blues clue, chap. Usually John comes down a few times an evening for a snack or a coffee.”

“I haven’t seen the cooks either.” Dirk ruffled his hair, which had dried in thick straight clumps still held with tired wax. “God man, what do you even _do_ in a house like this? It’s so big and empty and kinda hella creepy.”

Jake shrugged.

“Don’t go into the attic I suppose.” While it was true, that the Crocker family’s small handful of possessions were hardly enough to adequately fill or decorate the house, Jake sort of liked the spacious emptiness of it all. He found the kitchen cosy, and his bedroom luxurious, and while it might indeed have been ‘too big’ in the winter, in summer it was just the right size to be comfortable. “There are lots of DVDs in the lounge room. Which is also somewhat done up I think. It’s much cosier than the rest of the house.”

“Hm.” Dirk adjusted his shades, and the artificial light glinted off the surface wisely. Jake shook his head.

“My dear bro, surely you can remove those now. Its not at all sunny in here, and you look quite ridiculous.”

Dirk shook his head. “Nope, bad eyes. I can’t expose them to brought light. But hey, speaking of DVDs, why don’t you show me that big TV your uncle got a few weeks ago? I remember him telling me about it at the time, but I’ve not seen it yet.”

“Oh!” Jake had had no clue, that the TV had been new. “Well of course! I think it’s in the loungeroom.”

…

Dirk had groaned loudly at every single one of Jakes movie suggestions, and in the end the two had started watching _I, Robot_ because it had gotten the least negative response and after declining at least sixty films Dirk just kind of stopped caring.

They were only forty minutes in when they heard the front door slam open and the hall light flip on, and John’s voice shattered the thin suspension of reality they had found themselves in.

“Yo hoo! Jake?”

“What?” Jake called back from the lounge, and within a minute John was at the door with a chipper smile on his face.

“Just went to Rose’s.” He informed Jake matter of factly. “she’s looking at starting to pack up the club and was wondering if she could borrow you and Dirk tomorrow to help out. Jane said she would so it shouldn’t be _too_ bad.” He hesitated and shrugged. “I sure wouldn’t want to do it!”

Before Jake could even reply, Dirk beat him to it.

“Sure. She could have just messaged me.”

“Oh there you are!” John seemed surprised to hear his voice, as A) if he hadn’t noticed that the black silhouette curled up in the corner of the sofa opposite Jake was a person and B) that it was obviously his farm boy and favoured employee. “Well she tried to call you, but you weren’t home.”  
“Hm.” Dirk returned his attention to the movie and chewing his thumbnail, and deciding it would be rude to keep talking while he was trying to watch Jake got up and made his way to the door.

“So what were you doing?” he asked, ushering his uncle into the hall and pulling the lounge door closed behind him.

“Like I said, I was at Rose’s. What are you my mom?”

“Oh pish posh you know what I mean. Where’s Jane?”

“She’s staying there tonight with Roxy. Did you save me any dinner?”

“We didn’t make any. The cook was out so-“

“Yeah I gave the staff the night off.” John unbuttoned the coat he had in and pulled it off his shoulders. “You know, I don’t even know why this place has staff. We’re the only ones here.”

“Well you pay them.”

“Nah, that’s not my job. So what do you say, will you and Dirk help Rose out?”

Jake bit his lip, his oversized teeth giving him a gawky look as he did so, and leant against the doorframe. Back to club heaven? Did he really want to do that _around_ people?

And then he realised that if he did go, he might see that girl, but this only added a whole new dimension of complication because _he might see the girl_.

He might see her, and he will be showing off his buff skills packing and cleaning and stuff like that, but also she will see him with Dirk and Dirk was definitely not the kind of guy Jake wanted around when he was trying to pick someone up because… well…

Jake just didn’t feel like he was in the same league as Dirk. Dirk was somehow just as manly as Jake was, except more compact and better looking, plus he was smarter and no doubt would be bossing Jake around, and what if he was there and the girl he liked remembered him and offered him another blow and Jesus Christ.

Jake would be much to embarrassed to say yes if he was around Dirk or Roxy or Jane!

Oh gosh, just thinking about it was sending him into a state of fluster.

“Well, I dunno. I suppose I will do whatever Dirk tells me to?”

He hated to admit this, but it was true. John nodded.

“And Dirk will do whatever I tell him to, so I guess that means it’s a yes!” John clapped him on the shoulders firmly and Jake winced, somehow feeling a leap of excitement and dread well in him simultaneously.

So he was returning to see the women of his dreams- just not in the way he had ever anticipated. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year my lovelies <3


	15. ohhhhhhhhhhkay i forget which number this is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [HEY GUYS LOOK AT THIS ART](http://thatpsychochick.tumblr.com/post/94115890507/whelp-here-he-is-dirk-strider-in-all-his) by the ever supportive thatpsychochick on tumblr! Thank you for your encouragement, and your patience, and for just generally being sweet to me even though i am a complete turd when it comes to updating. -.-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh egad.  
> Its been a while. nine months, in fact.  
> Ive forgotten most of whats happened already, but will refresh my memory before posting the next chapter. Interesting fact: The completion of this fic will mark the completion of my active participation in the homestuck fandom. i hope to write another ten chapters maybe to wrap it up? i will not allow a lapse of nine months before posting another chapter this time. please give me an impatient prod if i am being slow about it. :)

Jake had spent the whole drive to the town and the club thinking grim thoughts, fears and hopes mingling together with the slow dawning realization that if Club Heaven was about to close, then this would be one of the last times he might ever be able to see his beloved again.

The day was strangely grey, but humid, and so Jake had neglected to don a jumper or anything warm even though Dirk seemed well dressed for stormy weather. His hoodie and beanie seemed excessive, but Jake didn’t bother mentioning it. He simply sat in the passenger seat of the Ute looking out the window and moped.

“Are you okay?” Dirk asked him, as they neared the edge of the town. His sunburn from the day before had started to peel on his nose, and no doubt under the sleeves of his hoodie his arms were turning flaky too.

“Fit as a fiddle.” Jake replied.

“… Okay. I don’t believe you.”

He was going to have to do better than that to pull the wool over Dirks eyes.

“I’m just a little glum today my primary bro. I didn’t sleep to well.”

“Hm.” Dirk slowed the vehicle, turning down the street on which that all too familiar building stood, the parks outside empty, the front door wide open in a way Jake had never seen it before. This sight made his stomach swoop, and a strange feeling of excitement and hesitation swept through him. “Hope you’re up to packing boxes.”

“Sure, sure.” Jake wasn’t paying him any attention. As they parked, he was already craning his neck, trying to look through the doorway and spot someone, _anyone_ of interest in the foyer. Was she here yet? Would she be here at all? His palms were sweaty and he hoped he didn’t dick up and say something embarrassing or stupid while she was around. “Say, you don’t know who might be accompanying us today on our little mission do you?”

If he had known he would sound as eager as he did, he would have refrained. Dirk killed the ignition and looked at him completely deadpan. “… probably just me and you and the girls. Why? Are you looking for someone?”

“No no! Not at all, Talley-ho lets be off then shall we?”

He practically tumbled out of the Ute and stumbled to his feet on the sidewalk.

The foyer looked different in the bright light of early morning, and with the photo frames removed from the walls it looked bare and unfriendly- the ghosts of the frames were burnt faintly on the wall where the sun had faded the paper, and in a open cardboard box next to the staircase they had been cast without much thought. There were bigger concerns to be had, such as the dismantling of the bar in the next room. Something Jake could hear Roxy complaining loudly about the moment he came in the door.

“It’s no good! The screwdrivers all wrong and I _told_ you. You didn’t listen mom!”

“No, you just have to use it differently to how you are right now-“

“ _No_. that’s stupid. I’m telling you, we need a flat screwdriver.”

“Sorry to interrupt.” Dirk didn’t sound sorry at all, pushing past Jake and sidling up against the doorframe to peer into the empty showroom. It was a lot larger now that there was no audience, and natural light was flooding the space. Rose and Roxy arguing echoed against the high ceilings. “Do you need any help with that?”

“No no,” Rose sighed and brushed her fingers along the hem of her bangs. “it’s fine. You two head up stairs and Kaye and Paola will give you something to do.”

Jakes stomach leapt. Who was ‘Paola’? She sounded promising. But he didn’t want to get his hopes too high just yet. Dirk grunted, and ushered Jake swiftly up the stairs. They were skinny and creaky, and the carpet on them was full and squishy underfoot despite its obvious age. Where Jake had believed they would come to a stop simply at the second floor he found there to be a landing, overlooked by a large and somewhat imposing stained glass window. A sharp turn and up another flight, Jake found himself standing in the dim second floor hallway. The walls in here too boasted the shadows of picture frames. Behind the two doors on this floor, one either side of the hall, Jake wondered if he might find the love of his life.

“Knock knock?” Dirk cracked one door open, peered inside, and closed it again quickly before Jake could see what was in there. He watched somewhat suspiciously, somewhat anxiously, as Dirk repeated the gesture with the second door.

“Hello? Oh, okay. Jake come in this one.”

The room behind the second door was almost as large as the showroom downstairs. In fact, it was a perfect translation of the space below, if not larger, because at the far end of the room in an area which would probably have been called ‘backstage’ on the ground floor there was a space punctuated only by a bare staircase descending. No doubt for the purpose of delivering ladies from up here to their places behind the curtain without attracting the attentions of the audience.

Kaye was seated at the front half of the room, closest to the door, in a spindly wooden and metal chair that looked like one of those ones Jake had in his schoolrooms when he was five. Across her lap, a box full of sequinned dresses and spangled cloth was spilling, and pinched between her perfectly olive fingernails a needle and thread. Clearly she was mending a few things before she packed them away. Behind her, a figure Jake didn’t recognise was digging through boxes in pursuit of some unknown object. Her hair was long and dark, obscuring her face, but the arms that were exposed by a trim fitting t-shirt seemed to be marked with large black coils. Tattoos that would have attracted his attention if he hadn’t been so startled to spot the other person in the room.

“Hello Dirk. And friend.” The boy gave him a swift glance up and down, and it was immediately obvious that although Jake recognised the checkout operator in his dense red sweater and prissy mannerisms, he didn’t recognise or recall having ever sold Jake sundries at all. Kaye scowled and turned her face back down to her needlework, and Dirk shrugged his shoulders in as casual greeting as Jake had ever seen him give.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

“I thought I would come and supervise the moving process. Offer my services if they were so required.”

“They aren’t.” Kaye snapped, and the boy simply tightened his jaw a little, as if the remark had slid right off him.

“Mom, please be civil.” The girl who had been rummaging in the box sat up, and Jake had to double take because whatever he had been expecting, it wasn’t that. Paola, because who else could she have been, was absolutely, positively, not at all the girl he had hoped she would be, but somehow Jake was not disappointed to have set eyes on her. She looked like the kind of woman Kaye might have been when she was twenty and then lied about at age forty. A little bit punk rock and a little but fem fatale. For some reason, Jake found himself wondering why he had been wasting his life in the outback with plain looking girls when all the hot ones had been kept secret in this tiny little settlement, but then he remembered the girl he was supposed to be looking for, and felt suddenly quite guilty.

“Oh hi. You must be Jake.”

Deep green eyes met his, and they smiled as elegantly as her pierced lips when she raised her chin and swept her hair with ease over her shoulder. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kaye’s daughter, Paola.”

Jake was going to say hello back, but Dirk cut him off with a heavy sigh and a remark that could have been affectionate, but somehow managed to dig Jake’s pride in a particularly unpleasant way.

“Don’t mind him, he’s no good at talking to pretty women.”

“Not something you have a problem with then?” Paola’s eyebrows, fiercely defined arches that made Jake feel very messy with his unbrushed hair and dirt under his nails and slightly unshaven jaw, flew up, and Dirk grumbled, dropping onto the ground and pulling a trunk full of more sequined clothing toward him.

“Jake, go get that rack of corsets from over there by the window. We can sort through them and throw out any with old wires or broken stitches.”

“I don’t think so Dirk.”

“Look, face it, most of these things are forty years old. You have to stop stitching them up and start throwing them out. Now is a good time to do it.”

Kaye huffed and frowned, continuing to stitch at the ruffles on a pale pink slip despite Dirk’s warnings, and Paola laughed softly.

“Need some help?”

“Sure. Kane, you can help too.”

The grocery boy sniffed and crossed his arms tightly across his chest. “Must I sit on the floor?”

Jake relented, letting go of the disappointment he couldn’t help but feel when faced with this room of people, and fetched the rack of corsets just like Dirk had asked him.

…

 

“You know, as fond as I am of this whole place, I really can’t help but feel as though it really would be in my best interests to leave. I mean, it’s quite small, and having only just graduated from college I cant help but feel as though my mind is wasted here serving the community rather than partaking in an institution of actual social value. But that’s perhaps just me being a little more prideful than I ought…”

Jake gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the way that Kane’s voice seemed to grind on every single one of his nerves. He spared a longing glance in Dirk’s direction, wishing that he might save him from this endless pile of unfolded curtains and bed sheets and skirts, but he and Paola were quite intimately engaged in some serious discussion, and he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealously about the whole thing. Dirk seemed intensely focused on the cleaning of a crate of wine glasses, and Paola spoke very quickly and quietly. It was very conspirational, and frustratingly out of earshot if Jake was going to be honest with himself.

He was so desperately nosey! A dreadful trait indeed.

He tried to focus his attention on his folding.

The time on the clock said twelve seventeen, and rain had broken at about ten am and had not ceased. The air in the second floor was cold and had a strange tendency to shift around a lot, so lacking in a jumper Jake couldn’t help but be a little cold and decidedly hungry. The biscuits and coffee rose had brought up and eleven had not been enough to keep him well fed.

“Alright over there dude?”

Jake jumped when Dirk addressed him, and whatever nonsense thing Kane had been rabbiting about was truncated rudely by his question. Which of course Jake struggled with somewhat when it came to answering it.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine.”

“Uh huh… you haven’t folded that many skirts English.”

Jake looked at the pile of folded skirts and the trunk of things still to be folded, overflowing and in the place of the chair Kaye had occupied a few hours previously. She had gone out with Roxy and Rose to get moving supplies apparently, and had left Dirk in charge of the packing efforts. But with Jake daydreaming about clipping Kane a good one around the ear and reflecting on how disappointing this whole day had been (his heart was sinking lower with each second: the girl wasn’t going to come back again, was she?) he hadn’t really been putting that much energy into getting through his pile of stuff.

That being said, Kane hadn’t shit his mouth to pick up a curtain or a sheet yet. So there was that.

“… I guess not.”

“Are you feeling okay?”

“Yah.” Paola interjected, hooking a ream of hair behind one of her ears and cocking her head. Jake noticed with a squirming feeling in his stomach that she had hickeys down the one side of her neck. They had been so cleverly disguised before, by her locks. “Kane isn’t the most motivating person in the world though is he?”

She smiled in a way that suggested she was teasing, but Jake’s folding partner took offense all the same. Of course he did.

“Excuse me, I find that frankly insulting to me and to Jake whose motivation I’m sure is entirely dependant on himself rather than the environment I personally am responsible for fostering.”

“Shhh… I was kidding. I’m not my mother, I like you well enough I guess.”

Kane huffed and mumbled something under his breath, before returning his attention to a nasty beige coloured pillowcase in silence. Jake was bewildered to see it. But not as bewildered to see the way Paola looked on at him, as though he was something frustrating but almost precious. Like a petulant child or a puppy who had just shat on the carpet. She clicked her tongue, and Jake was forcibly reminded of a mother hen despite the obvious stereotypes her general look was demolishing.

“He’s just shirty because Mom chewed his ear this morning,” Paola told Jake. “She’s pissed off because he’s kicking her out.”

“Kicking her out?”

“Yeah, he’s the landlord.”

“OH!” suddenly Jake remembered the letter he had delivered with Jane, and the things his uncle had mentioned to him in the past few days. “Really?” he looked to Kane, actually wanting to hear him confirm this. “Are you _really_ a landlord?”

He was not to be disappointed.

“Well of course I am!” Kane stuck his chin up proudly and looked somewhat flushed that Jake hadn’t already known this fact. “But you know I never approved of what was happening in this place. Not even since I was little. Much too dirty, much too filthy and morally objectionable. It was a strip club, Jake. For the purpose of sexually exploiting women and exchanging sexual pleasure for money.”

“… Oh.”

Jake considered acing shocked about this, but he didn’t have time.

“Yes, ‘oh’. And you know, if it hadn’t been for the fact that until I was eighteen Kaye was my legal guardian I never would have allowed her to use this place in such a terribly shameful fashion…”

And now he was off again. Jake furrowed his brow, filing the fact that apparently Kaye had raised (?) this child away in his head with all the other strange bits of information he had gleaned about Saint Luke’s and the people who lived there. It was true then, that everyone in these sorts of small towns were related? Since the Dirk and Roxy revelation though, these kinds of discoveries didn’t startle him so much.

Dirk heaved a heavy sigh and pulled himself to his feet. His knees cracked loudly as he did so and Paola laughed.

“Shut it.”

Jake watched disinterested as he dug around in his pocket for his cellphone, checked it, and announced that Dave _still_ hasn’t text him.

“Whose Dave?”

Jake asked.

“Unimportant. I’m going to town to grab some food I think. Here, Jake take my jacket.” He undid his hoodie, a plain black zip up which Jake was surprised to see had a coy dark pink lining, and tossed it in Jakes direction. “You look freezing.”

“I am!” without questioning this prompted display of generosity, Jake tugged the article of clothing on. It was a little bit too small for him, and smelt overpoweringly of fancy pharmacy deodorant. The heat from Dirk’s body lingered in the sleeves and back. “Can I come with you then?”

“No, Kaye wants us to do the windows next and you have to do the top ones. You’re tall enough I think.”

“Darn.”

Curse him and his average sized man legs.

“Ask Paola where the cleaning stuff is. I’ll be back in about half an hour.”

Jake checked his watch, and was sorely disappointed to find that only ten minutes had passed since he had last looked at the time.

…

Jake liked cleaning the windows better than folding because at least when he was cleaning windows, he had peace and quiet. For a regular sized house, the place sure did have a lot of windows, and he had finished cleaning all of the windows upstairs (Including the ones in the room that Dirk had not let him look into earlier- the only thing in there was a stripped back bed and a chest of drawers so why that was would most likely remain a mystery indefinitely) when Dirk returned with a large bag of food and a two litre bottle of coke.

“You thirsty?”

Jake was, and gratefully he tossed down his rag and dismounted the short ladder he had been using to clean the top half of the stained glass window in the stairwell.

“You know,” Dirk mused, as he sat down on the landing with his back against the wall. “I always really liked that window.”

“Actually, I was thinking to myself as I cleaned it that I rather liked it too.”

Jake joined him, sitting cross legged on the floor and reaching for the plastic bag which Dirk had crammed with bread rolls, doughnuts, and a large package of cheese Doritos.

“It’s charming in a strange kind of way.”

The window depicted a figure, but it was a figure not like the usual figure found in the stained glass of a church or a cathedral. Although the design was similar, laid on a clear leaded background and with scrolls with words in both Latin in English adorning top and bottom (In memory of Karman Vantas, _Anno Dominie 1846-1892_ ) the person in the window was not by any means a holy figure. In fact it could have been any man with a hefty book in his hand,. A university lecturer maybe? or a well educated middle aged chap, with cropped hair and deeply brooding eyes.

“Who is he anyway?”

“I have no idea. Maybe some relative of Kane? They have the same surname and well, you’ve seen for yourself that everyone seems to be related around these parts.”

“True indeed my main fellow. Mind if I have some of that?”

Dirk passed Jake the bottle of coke, and watched with an unreadable expression as Jake took a mouthful, almost spilling it right down the front of his shirt.

“Where are the others?” Dirk asked.

“Not really sure. Still packing perhaps?”

“Hm.” He reached for the packet of doughnuts, and bit into one in silence.

Jake returned his thoughts to what he had been contemplating before Dirk had returned. Particularly, he busied himself listing ways to get in touch with the ever elusive target of his affections.

So far, he had nothing on his list. Not one thing whatsoever. Asking Rose or Kaye had occurred to him, but of course that meant admitting that… you know. He was kind of in love with a strange burlesque dancer he had talked to all of once, and even when he said it like that in his _head_ it sounded stupid. Maybe he was naive, or foolish, or he had watched too many awful movies about hero types and seductive damsels and prostitutes with a heart of gold. Maybe he was infatuated and horny and dizzy with the fact that he was living in a new location where the grass was green and the girls were the elegant girl next door sort he had never seen in the outback. All the women he had known growing up (Including his mother) were suntanned and muscular and wild, kind of like the bloodthirsty desert they tamed, and to be frank he had spent most of his life wondering if slim dancers with lipstick and curled hair were a myth. He could hardly be _blamed_ for falling so hard and so fast.

But back to the matter at hand. Where on _earth_ could he find her? He didn’t know anything about her. Not where she lived, what she liked, or where she would be working now her place of employment was being shut down. He could just kind of sit here maybe, on the doorstep of this house and see if she might come by, or he could just spend every day of the rest of the summer in and about the town looking around cafes and in the unvisited aisles of supermarkets reading can labels until she appeared again.

Ugh. No that’s so depressing.

And clearly, this sense of despair is written all over Jakes face.

Dirk coughs and stretches his legs out on the landing. The wall behind him creaks dryly, in the way that old houses do, and Jake snaps his head up, roused from his thoughts.

“You’re a little preoccupied today bro.”

“… Yeah. Yeah I guess I am.” Jake sighed and removed his glasses to wipe them on the bottom of his shirt. “I just… I don’t feel quite _right_ , you know?”

“And why is that?”

Jake swallowed, and wished he could tell someone, anyone, even Dirk, what was bothering him.

Wait a moment.

Maybe he _could_ tell Dirk.

Dirk was a smart guy, and he knew almost everything there was to know about anything in this place. Failing that Dirk might actually _know_ the girl, he would at least surely have a good idea about how Jake could go about finding her again, and well… he wouldn’t judge Jake _too_ harshly right? It was no secret that Jake visited the club, and even though it embarrassed him a little it wasn’t like anyone had been treating him any better or worse than they might have usually. No one had judged him, and as long as they didn’t know how seriously he had taken the whole experience no one had any reason to, and one single person who Jake knew and liked very much wouldn’t hurt his reputation any. Dirk would hold silence, he _had_ to. He was a sensible, reliable sort of a guy. 

“… There’s this lass I met here. I rather quite liked her. I was just wondering weather or not I can find the cojones to ask Kaye or rose… you know. For her details.” He flexed his fingers, ignoring the embarrassed sweat beading on his palms.

Dirk was silent for a moment, and then-

“Which girl?”

“I’m not sure what her name is. She’s blonde and a very pretty sort. Wears an orange dress? In any case, I uh… hm.” He trailed off and avoided looking Dirk in the shades.

There was a slightly awkward stretch of silence then, before Dirk heaved a heavy sigh and leaned forward for the bottle of coke next to Jakes thigh.

“You shouldn’t go around getting all infatuated with sex workers English.”

“She’s not a sex worker! _She’s a dancer_.”

“She is too. I know who you mean and trust me; She’s a whore.”

Jake chose to ignore that. His heart leapt in his chest and he spluttered when he tried to get his next words out.

“You know her?!”

“I do. I know everyone who works here. And she’s bad news.”

“Oh fiddlesticks strider. I don’t believe you.”

Dirk shrugged easily and unscrewed the cap of the soda bottle.

“If you don’t believe me, then talk to her some time. She’s working at the pop-up studio in town until rose finds a new location. You know the café down the road from the Christian bookstore?”

Jake didn’t, but he nodded earnestly anyway. His stomach was doing flip flops and he couldn’t get his head around the way Dirk just seemed so _bored_ about the whole situation.

“Sure, sure.”

“The place is run by a woman, Vanessa Serket. Her and Kaye used to know each other and she’s letting them use the place after hours in exchange for cash under the table. Don’t tell anyone that though, Rose will kill me. Anyway, after dark you wanna go and you’re looking for a girl called Dixie.”

“… Dixie?”

“Yeah. Dixie Dean. That’s not her real name but that’s the name she uses.”

Jake could hardly believe anything in life could come so easily. _Why had he not asked Dirk earlier?!_

“How do you know all this?!”

“English, please. There is literally nothing that goes on in this fucking rat infested sewer excuse for a town I don’t know about. Haven’t you realised this yet?”

Jake shook his head, utterly bemused and feeling rather like he could kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have a plot conclusion pretty much sorted out in my head but at this point, if anyone has any ideas or thoughts they want to share then please leave a comment and let me know! im happy to write a few fun scenes simply for the entertainment of the readers into the next few chapters, provided they dont interrupt my current plans. :D thank you again everyone for your patience and support. xoxo


	16. weva

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH BOY YOUS ARE GOING TO LOVE THIS.  
> So I was reading all of my old notes for this story trying to remember what happens next and I found a copy of the original prompt I used to inspire this fic two or more years previously? The prompter had actually requested for the dancer to be called ‘danielle’ noot ‘dixie’ which is very embarrassing because I completely forgot. To the original prompter who may be reading this, I apologise. To the rest of the audience, please acknowledge that this mistake was my own foolishness and every tim you read the name ‘dixie’ in the context of this fic please know that I am ashamed of my mistake -.-‘
> 
> ***ALSO have a bumper chapter today. To make up for so many months of nothing. ***
> 
> *** ALSO I should probably T-warning this chapter for Father-related issues and family drama. I know that sort of thing can affect some people negatively so tread gently and stay safe***

It was surprisingly difficult to find the place Dirk mentioned, but not nearly as difficult as convincing the guy to leave him there in the town instead of taking him back to the house. “It’s positively A-ok my friend,” Jake insisted, standing a few metres back from the ute in case he tripped and fell in because he was standing far too close. “I can walk home. I’ve done it before, you know.”

Dirk gave him a look that was so critical, Jake could sense it through his shades.

“Have you now?”

“Absolutely, yes.”

Dirk sighed and jammed his key into his vehicle door.

“You’re going to find that girl aren’t you.”

He didn’t ask it so much as he said it, and as such Jake didn’t feel as though he was being invited to answer. Even if he had been, however, he wasn’t sure if answering would be appropriate - He felt rather ashamed at being seen through so easily, and he didn’t want to embarrass himself any more than he had to between now and the minute he finally got the elusive Dixie Dean in his arms. Fortunately, Dirk was a discreet type of person, and he caught on to this fast enough to say “Fine. But seriously, you’re wasting your time.”

He got into his vehicle and drove off.

Jake wondered if he should have been a little more subtle, or if Dirk would have been able to figure it out regardless. Maybe he should have waited a day or two before setting out to find her again?

Nah. That would have been wasting time.

Pleased enough with himself, despite the cool way Dirk had brushed him off, Jake thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and began meandering his way through the streets - toward the central shopping avenue, and the Christian bookshop he _thought_ he saw a few days earlier close to the coffee shop Roxy worked at. He remembered vaguely that it had been a pretty looking shop with a large planter box of pansies out front, but as most stores in Saint Lukes had similar descriptions he found himself walking up and down the street three times before he remembered that Dirk had said the place he was looking for was ‘down the road’ from the central avenue, and that ‘down the road’ could possibly mean off a side road and not necessarily on the main drag.

Sure enough, when he walked backwards a few hundred metres to an intersection, he found _new spring books_ on the corner, and using his astute powers of deduction he figured that the place he was looking for must be a little way down the way that headed toward the direction he had came from. In fact, when he arrived, he was shocked to find that the place was the same café he had gone to his first day. A long line of cars was parked along the street opposite, and he checked his watch to make sure it was opening hours. Seven fifteen. Should be open, right?

A small twinge of doubt rose in him, and mistrust too because what if this had all just been an elaborate joke and Dirk was in there with a party popper and a big smug grin because hey, he had conned Jake into making an idiot of himself by trying to break into a café. How hilarious. The place _looked_ like nothing was going on alright, but the vehicle parade wasn’t usually there and it _had_ to be too much of a coincidence to mean nothing…

He coughed and edged close enough to the door to reach out and push the handle down. Relief and excitement washed through him when it gave, and he was allowed to slip into the deserted café.

“Hello?” he asked tentatively, peering into the still and partial dim and trying to see something or anything to help him out. He almost leapt out of his skin when a voice from close beside him interrupted his investigation.

“Hello handsome. Looking for me?”

It was a woman, the same woman Jake had had approach him on an occasion at the club, with sleek black hair and dark red lips and she was sitting in an arm chair close to the door smoking a cigarette in a long holder. Jake shook his head instantly and backed away.

“Dixie.” He said, It came out defensively like he was afraid she was going to try something on if he let his guard down. “Is Dixie here?”

The woman frowned, and she stubbed her cigarette on the arm of the chair before standing up and placing her hands on her hips quite impatiently.

“Very rude.” She said silkily. “I can do better. Dixie is boring. I can put my mouth on you while you lick my –“

“Dana!” a harsh voice from behind him made Jake spin around, and he was feeling quite vulnerable and uninformed here like this – the door to the backroom of the café was opened and it resembled a gate to heaven. Hopefully, therein he might find some answers. Or at least, that was what he thought before he saw the woman blocking the light shining through, and the music which was leaking around her edges into the café faded to static.

“Why so early?” Dana asked, and she sounded pissed off about it too. “You start eight PM.”

Dixie Dean shook her head coolly and hooked a thread of hair behind her ear.

“I was in town so I thought I’d come straight over. Who are you and what do you want?” she turned her attention to Jake and his stomach turned over.

“Why, I’m Jake.” He told her, stepping forward into the square of light cast into the café from the back room. “Don’t you remember me?”

She looked at him dryly, as though she very much did not, before rolling her eyes and stepping aside.

“Come through then, Jake. Take a seat and someone will be with you soon.”

He hurried forward and into the secret quarters, and as he did so he heard Dixie chastising Dana for abusing her door keeping privileges. When she closed the door behind him, he found himself quite astonished by the fresh new place he was seeing.

The café back room was pretty much the front room except bigger – large glass doors faced onto a garden where tables and umbrellas sat folded and illuminated by fairy lights winking in the sunset glow of the late evening. The tables and chairs in the space each had small bowls with packets of sugar and spoons, and the arm chairs were filled with pretty girls who may have been nothing more than patrons were they not all wearing matching uniforms – stilettos and frilly skirts and blouses that might have looked more appropriate in a wild western setting. The few men in the place seemed happy – the lack of stage and ready space meant that most of the employees were up close and personal and really, Jake thought as his eyes skimmed the café-art on the wall, it looked kind of like some fantasy dollhouse. Something that might only exist in horny dreams. Maybe there was something special about exotic or strange environments that make fantastic alternative realities, and maybe this was the appeal that these men found in coming out of the woodwork to here, where they might get a glimpse of another life and a chance to suspend their real world a moment or two. It almost made him uncomfortable to acknowledge, and when he turned his face back to Dixie in her high heals and beautiful peach dress he wondered how it was he had never felt that way about it all.

“If you don’t mind me saying, Madam, you look quite beautiful tonight…” He bowed his head quite confidently as he spoke. She looked at him like he had just sprouted a second head “Dixie.”

“… Yes? Thanks? So how can I help?”

Oh that _voice_. It was like sweet husky heaven. Her accent felt like it was licking the sensitive shell of Jake’s ears and he had to try not to let his mind wander to inappropriate places.

“Ah! What couldn’t a beautiful woman such as yourself do to help a poor weary fellow like me?” Jake held his palms up in front of him quite openly, and it never once occurred to him that perhaps he had seen too many movies, perhaps he was coming on too strong. Whatever the truth may be the thing that mattered was that he had been looking forward to this moment all afternoon and his heart still fluttered at the thought that he was living it, and an excited sweat was beading on the nape of his neck. He tried in earnest to engage her further, but of course he lost his words along the way.

“What I mean to say,” He stumbled, feeling his cheeks colour as he tried to stay on track and not end up spouting needless feelings of love and dedication, “Is I am looking for a means of-“

He was cut off by a hand thrust in front of his mouth, and even in the semi-dim of the café his female companion looked flushed. Even annoyed at him.

“Oh my god English pull yourself together.” She pushed him backwards gently and Jake felt his stomach drop as he very neatly fell into a spare seat. He took a moment to thank whatever powers that be that there had been something there to break his fall. “I hazard a guess you came for some company?”

She removed her hand and grabbed a menu hurriedly from the menu holder on the table.

“Here. Read this and I’ll be back in five minutes to take your order. And _try_ not to embarrass yourself!”

Jake was so astonished by all this brisk treatment that she was gone before he even noticed she had taken her hand away from his mouth.

Oh man, had he offended her or something by mistake? What if she _didn’t_ like him? Dirk was right.

Jake was almost ready to give up hope altogether when out of nowhere, she reappeared, and she was holding a large jug of water and a glass filled with ice which she filled for him.

“Let me know when you are ready to order.” She clipped, and she shot Jake a look that made it very clear that whatever he had done to piss her off (existing?) she was not on the menu.

 

…

 

“How much do I owe you?” Jake asked, pulling out his wallet fumbling with the clip because he was shaking so much with nerves. The woman sharing his little table, oblivious of the babble in the café around them (of groups of men sharing private dates with beautiful creatures, just like Jake was), gave him a very sterile smile and batted her lashes. If either Jake or the lights overhead were a little brighter, maybe Jake would have noticed that the curvature of her lips did not touch her eyes.

“It’s fine.” She told him calmly. “We can put it on your tab.”

“I don’t have a tab?”

“We can arrange one.” She brushed a few strands of blonde hair off her brow and fiddled with the straw in her drink of ice water. Jake felt himself puff up a little with pride, although what exactly for he had no fucking clue, and shrugged easily in agreement because he wasn’t going to argue with he lass he has just spent two hours sitting with, talking at length about his uncle and the house and his mother and Australia, because although she made a point of ignoring his attempts to steer the conversation toward professions of undying affection, Dixie Dean was a great listener and Jake liked that in a girl. So what if she was making her dollars from how many hours she could get lonely single men to just keep talking.

“Well that’d be top notch, madam. I sure have enjoyed your company tonight you know. As you may have noticed, I’m quite taken with you.”

It would seem that Jake just never learned.

She nodded, and that plastic smile didn’t slip an inch even when he reached for her fingers resting on the tabletop by the sugar bowl, and she had to pull her hand carefully away.

“I know.” Her voice was unreadable, and Jake was too blustery and chuffed to think that ‘unreadable’ could be a great disguise for ‘sad’. “You’re a really sweet guy to be around, Jake.”

Oh! Well if she kept complimenting him like that he may just need to marry her, right here and now! Jake wasn’t a complicated person, so fortunately such simple thought gave him no quarrel. He grinned and offered to pour her more water.

“Gosh, you wouldn’t mind telling my good chum Dirk that would you? He seemed to have it in his head that I would be _quite_ an unsuitable match for you. Or at least, you for me.”

Jake wasn’t expecting this to shatter her little smile like a brick to glass. All false semblance of happiness disappeared in her tone and her manner, and Jake caught himself in a shocking moment of surreal bewilderment – this was really happening.

He had just spent the better part of two hours chatting up this woman Dirk said wouldn’t give him the time of day. They were getting along famously and he was planning to ask her on a proper date in oh… maybe three point five seconds if all goes well from here. He certainly wasn’t expecting a sharp inhalation and a cutting look that made the blood in his veins turn cold. Suddenly, it was like he had never managed to convince her to join him at the table at all. Suddenly, she was just as fucked off as she had been when he had first stumbled in here, and Jake realised for the first time in his life that in fact, he may be a bumbling, blithering idiot.

“Oh my.” He said quickly. “I’m sorry? Have I upset you?”

“You haven’t upset me.” She says. “But please, don’t get yourself confused. I’m only sitting her with you like this because it’s my _job_.”

“Oh for sure! I’m not completely stupid!”

Jake wanted to follow up with _‘its just some part of me really does believe we are going to fall in love and be together forever’_.

He followed up _with “but just to be sure, there really is no chance of perhaps inviting you on a date sometime? You know. Off the clock?’_ instead, which was pretty much the exact same thing.

And even though Dixie Dean probably expected it, her eyes became very wide for a brief stretch of seconds because somehow, this proposition took her by surprise.

“Oh Jesus.” She had her hair straight today, and it helped curtain her face as she turned away. “Jake, I wasn’t lying. you’re a great guy, but I really don’t think I can allow that. It’s not professional at all and I just… wow. Wow.” She peeked at him from behind her hand and Jake caught a glimpse of perfect amber eyes. “I didn’t actually think you’d do it.”

“… Do what?” Jakes mind was running behind a bit, he was still struggling to come to terms with the fact she hadn’t said yes right away. “Why wouldn’t I? Is that a no?”

He felt despair and a cold dawning awareness of what he had just done wash over him.

He was sitting in a bordello freshly rejected by a goddess in sequins and silk. He had literally just abandoned all his self-awareness and ran into a situation like a golf cart with busted breaks in sheer excitement at having found out where she might be. He was so glad Dirk wasn’t here right now, because Jake was sure that if Dirk _ever_ found out he would positively die laughing. Jake wanted to positively die of shame right about this second, but unfortunately the means to do so escaped him.

Dixie nodded and pulled her hand away.

“I’m sorry. Usually people don’t do it like that… directly to the point thing. You caught me by surprise and honestly I _never.._.”

She tried to push the expression of shock and wonder off her face and tried to force a weak smile there instead. When she reached to touch the side of Jake’s face with hesitant hands he found her touch sweet and it made his stomach turn to soup and regret. “That was really brave of you, Jake English. Stupid as hell though.”

And all through the humiliation ( _how could he have been so foolish?!)_ Jake thought he recognised something about her intonation at the end of that sentence. She slid her hand down his neck and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. Jake thought he might need to sit down a little longer, to process his horror and his shame.

 

…

 

The weather the next day matched Jake’s mood – it was grey and kind of drizzly and the rain wet the crown of his head and the shoulders of his stone grey blazer when he made his way from the house to the front seat of Dirk’s Ute, which was waiting in the drive for him as soon as he pulled himself out of bed. He hadn’t slept too well last night, the pain of rejection made him feel awkward in his body, and if Dirk noticed the shadows under his eyes or the ghostly stubble along his jaw then he didn’t say anything. Rather, he said that today they were going to be clearing out the attic of the old club, and he hoped Jake would stop looking like he’s just become aware of his own mortality because they were going to need some enthusiasm if they hoped to move all the old furniture and shit out before sundown.

“Oh right oh. Sorry Dirk old bean, I’m not feeling tip top today is all.”

Dirks eyebrows lifted and Jake was quite sure he knew that Jake had blown it with Dixie the night before, but he didn’t say anything about it at least and for that Jake was grateful.

They made it to the club in stony silence, and when they got inside Jake felt an acute sense of sadness at the empty hallway and dusty smell on the carpet covering the stairs. He followed Dirk where he gestured and when they reached the top landing, he very early collided with the drop down ladder that had been pulled from the ceiling since the last time he had been here. The steps creaked threateningly under him as he ascended, but he hardly noticed. He was still replaying the scene in his head – the sad and sympathetic way she had turned him down was maddening because if possible, it made her even _more_ sweet and beautiful in his eyes. But there could be absolutely no misconstruing the idea she was trying to convey.

Sorry Jake. I’m really, really, really not interested.

Jake wondered briefly if it was because he was ugly and he had not until right now known it. He wondered if it was because he had a bit of a belly, and arms that were a little hairier than usual, or maybe she didn’t like boys with glasses or black hair. He had been doted on for these qualities when he was a teenager in Aus but perhaps American girls preferred blondes? Guys with skinny arms and fashionable clothes.

Jake pawed unhappily at the bottom of his old blazer, which he had picked out of his moms closet when they had been clearing the house of all her things and may in fact be an antique, and stood around in the middle of the attic waiting for Dirk to figure out what they were supposed to be doing.

“Dirk?”

A familiar, feminine voice called to them from the eaves of the house, which were illuminated by a single naked bulb. The attic was a medium sized room with boxes stacked almost all the way up – it was a little tidier than Travis Nitram’s attic but about as dusty, and the only clear space was the large circular rug in the centre of the floor where Dirk and Jake were standing and looking around. A surprised ‘oh shit!” amended the call, and there was the thud that sounded an awful lot like someone dropping a box full of old news papers and TV guides, before Rose appeared from behind a large coat rack and waved them over.

“Nice to see you boys here bright and early.” She smiled, and her hair and makeup were impeccable as always even though by now, her rich plum coloured blouse was covered in dust and attic debris. “I wasn’t all together sure where to start, so I thought I would move some of the boxes of old photos and paper out for us to sort through before Kaye goes to the recycling centre this afternoon.” She dusted off her hands and Dirk strode forward, sliding the coats and dresses (some of which were sequined, but far too dated to have been used in the club downstairs) on the rack aside to peer into the shadows where Rose had appeared from.

“What about the old furniture over there?”

He thumbed in Jake’s direction, and it took him a minute to realise that Dirk was talking about the old wooden cabinets and tables stacked behind him – how anyone had managed to gat a wardrobe as big as the one with the large cracked mirror on it up those rickety stairs was a mystery, but it was one Jake didn’t care to investigate.

Rose shrugged and smoothed a few threads of hair back into place on her head.

“Jake could empty that stuff out for me and we can leave it here, if he likes.”

Jake thought that didn’t sound like too much of an objectionable idea, all things considering, and glumly he shuffled over to the furniture and got working.

 

…

 

“Your uncle was an utter horror, Jake. A prankster of the most accomplished variety.” Rose was talking as though she didn’t care if he would listen or not, sitting cross legged on the floor surrounded by the boxes of stuff Jake had pulled out of the furniture and leafing through the contents happily. On her lap, a tattered and faded yearbook lay closed, and when she found what she was looking for in the boxes she brandished it, and waved Jake over from his task sorting newspapers from 1891.

“Look here. This is him with us again, like you saw in the photo at my place. But _here_ he is with Dave, Dirks older brother. Dirk told you about Dave, hasn’t he?” she smiled, and if Jake had been the more observant type he would have noticed Dirk stiffen as he searched through an old crate filled with what looked like baby clothes.

“… I’ve heard the name. Roxy pointed him out to me in a photo at your house.”

Rose smiled and nodded, and the look in her eyes said that she was assuming Roxy had also told him more than that.

“Well, he’s also my little brother you know. And that technically makes Dirk my youngest sibling. Can you see the family resemblance?” Rose smiled and Jake shrugged, because he would be lying if he said that nearly every blonde person he had seen in this town including the entirely off limits but achingly perfect Dixie Dean seemed to look alike.

“I wouldn’t have guessed if you hadn’t told me.” Jake said, taking a seat next to Rose and reaching for the yearbook politely. In the far corner of the attic, he heard Dirk grumble something and resume his rummaging in the chest.

Dave, assumably with the surname ‘Strider’ (Possibly Lalonde? Or was that a name Rose had invented for herself?), was actually a very attractive looking man. Even younger than he was in the last photo Jake had seen him in, he was in this one pictured carrying an old fashioned SLR camera. hanging off his arm was an overly eager looking John, and Jake only knew this was john because he was wearing a charming beaglepuss that only his uncle could possibly have construed as tasteful. The caption read, in italic text _‘the St Lukes Academy 1988 photography club president D. Strider meets with student council member J. Egbert  to discuss photo options for the upcoming Christmas Gala Ball.’_

“John was on the student council?” he heard himself asking, although he very nearly asked why on earth it was that the name ‘Dave Strider’ Sounded so bizarrely familiar. Rose nodded and turned the page.

“About ten years earlier, your mother was the president.” She said, and a sad sort of look came over her face. As though she was remembering something that she wanted to say aloud, but couldn’t. “I miss her dearly.”

This at least was a feeling Jake could relate to. He nodded and reached out to pat Rose on the shoulder sympathetically. For alost three whole months after his mothers departure from this earth, Jake had been inconsolable. He missed her too. 

“She sure was something.” He said. “Bravest lady I ever did know.”

“No offence Jake, but you don’t know that many ladies.”

Dirk had wandered over to join them, and Jake gave him a look like he didn’t know if he should be offended or not (which he didn’t) as he sat down.

“I never met her,” he continued easily. “But Dave always said she was a great person.”

“He would know.” Rose said coolly, and if Jake wasn’t mistaken he could have sworn he heard some resentment slide into her voice. She drew a deep breath through her nose and flickered her eyes to him. “They were very close those two. Even though there were a few years age difference between them. They were going to get married, you know.”

This was enough to surprise Jake right out of his funk. All this time he had been working and sitting and listening, there had still been a few back parts of his brain which were focusing on remembering Dixie, and their interactions, and ways he could have made the whole event less awkward but wow _._ This was huge news to him! He had never known his mother had been romantically inclined and assumed with good reason that she had lived her life almost exclusively asexually. He was of course assuming that the few visits to the fertility and sperm donation clinic that his existence necessitated were not counted.

“My Mum was going to get _married_?” he repeated, and Dirk sighed.

“Fucking hell… Rose can we not talk about this any more? I only came over because I need your permission to throw this hideous thing out.” He picked what looked like an entire fox pelt up from his lap, and Jake eyed it with amazement not because he hadn’t realised Dirk had had it concealed on his person but rather because he had never actually _seen_ a real fur anything outside of a museum or souvenir store.

Rose shook her head and took the pelt from Dirk carefully.

“We can sell it for a lot of money.” She informed him calmly. “And yes Jake. They were engaged. But eventually they fell out and Jade was so angry that she went to Australia to live out the rest of her days.”

“… Why did they fall out?” Jake asked, and he could see Dirk pale from the corner of his eye when he asked this. Rose smiled a sad little smile and shook her head just an inch.

“That’s not my place to tell.” She told him quietly. “Suffice to say that Dave is my brother and I adore him so, but he has always been afraid of commitment and responsibility, and even before Jade left he was remarkably popular among the ladies of this town.”

This made Dirk huff loudly and stand up. Jake immediately got the impression that Rose had upset him.

“I’m going for a walk.” He snapped, and Jake stared with a slightly slack jaw as he descended the attic steps and disappeared into the hall below. When he turned back to Rose, she was stroking the dusty old fox pelt demurely, and although she looked troubled by what had just happened she didn’t look all that much like she regretted saying it.

“Dirk is just so stubborn.” She mused, “and reluctant to admit he may, in fact, be human.”

Jake thought that this was the most accurate description of Dirk he had ever heard.

 

…

 

The drive out of the town was silent and awkward, and Jake wanted to say something that might have lifted Dirk’s mood but he could think of nothing. In comparison to Dirk’s glowering, and the white knuckled way he gripped his steering wheel as he drove, Jake thought his own little concerns about his love life seemed insignificant. He was absolutely _dying_ to ask Dirk more about this so called brother of his, and why Dirk was so angry about the fact that Dave had neglected to marry Jake’s mum, and what exactly it was about the information Jake had been given to day that set Dirk off so badly. He was just about to open his mouth and make a tentative inquiry as to how Dirk was feeling when his company jerked the steering wheel left, and they took a sharp right angled turn down a road that Jake had never noticed or been down before today.

“I can’t _believe_ she would even fucking do that!” he said, and Jake’s pleasant question died in his throat. “She had _no right_ to tell you any of that stuff! My brother is my business!”

Jake took a few seconds to process this, and then realised that Dirk was saying Jake had no need to have discovered his own parent had once been planning to marry someone from this quaint little southern town.

“Hey! Call me presumptuous, but I believe I am quite indebted to Rose for telling me a little more about my mothers life before I came along! Golly, if it hadn’t been for the events outlined this afternoon, I wouldn’t even _exist_.” He realised after he said it how inconsiderate this may have sounded, and tacked an awkward amendment on the end to remove the edge. “How was I to know that my rightful knowledge also happens to be private unto yourself and your family?”

Dirk ground his teeth and put a little more pressure on the gas pedal propelling them. Jake was too distracted by their discussion to wonder where on earth they might be going.

“Whatever English. I don’t care. I just don’t appreciate the insinuation that Dave, who yes may have a few issues with taking responsibility for his actions, would be so fucking stupid as to go get some strange woman pregnant and loose his fiancé and all hope he ever had of leading a normal, happy, _idiotic_  small town life!”

He jerked the wheel to the left again, taking a sharp turn into a parking lot, and slammed his foot heavily onto the break. The engine stalled and the cabin shuddered unpleasantly, and When Jake stopped having a metaphorical heart attack he stared at Dirk as though he had just said something completely unexpected and nonsensical. Which honestly, he really had.

“… That wasn’t the impression I got from what Rose was telling me.” He said, watching Dirk rip the keys from the ignition and shove open the drivers side door.

“Well then you’re fucking dumb. Because that’s what Rose _thinks_ happened and I know it.” He gestured for Jake to get out of the goddamned vehicle, and Jake decided he better do what he is told as soon as possible in case Dirk got even madder and decided to tear him a new one. When he got out he finds himself standing on the tarmac in front of what was unmistakably a bottle store. Dirk dug around in his back pocket for his wallet and his ID, and stalked toward the automated door like he was planning to purchase every single item of merchandise therein.

Jake followed after him like a puppy with its tail between its legs, and he hoped that whatever Dirk’s plans were for the remainder of the evening, they didn’t involve alcohol poisoning.

Dirk bought a six pack of apple cider and a bottle of cheep wine. He got Jake to carry them to the Ute for some reason and Jake did it without asking why. When they climed back into the cabin, Dirk seemed a little calmer. Or at least, he seemed a little more in control.

“Wanna come somewhere with me and drink a bit?” he asked. “I know this great place by the river. There’s rocks and trees lots of other crappy country bullshit.”

“The river?” Jake hadn’t been to the river before. Was it actually a river, or was it just going to be a shitty little stream illuminated by the last few fingers of sundown? “Sure. Why not?”

Dirk gave him a cool smile, and they headed off.

The river, it turned out, was actually a river after all – a little one sure, but definitely too large to be called a creek or a stream. It was close to the church that Jake had been attending on Sundays, and as such they parked in the chapel car park close to the graveyard Jake had passed through with Jane and Roxy on the way to Roxy’s house. He thought of mentioning this to Dirk, but decided not to in case that made him made at Rose again, and as they picked their way across the field on the churches other side he thought he better get his phone out of his back pocket and text his uncle. Let him know he might be a little late home.

“There’s no reception.” He said loudly, and Dirk turned to glance over his shoulder at him quizzically.

“Yeah?”

“I was just going to text John and let him know I’ll be late home.”

“Oh. Right. I wouldn’t worry about that too much, he knows you’re with me.” Dirk slowed down a little to let Jake catch up, and Jake was thankful for it, although he was unsure how well he could trust Dirk to lead him accurately through knee length grass when it was dark and he was wearing sunglasses. The warm evening winds of summer rustled the branches of trees on the horizon and brought a pleasant shiver to Jake’s skin. He was uncannily aware of Dirk walking carefully next to him, and of the sound of water growing steadily louder as they drew toward the far edge of the grassy area. If he turned around to glance at the church and township in their wake, they would have looked like little dollhouses behind them.

“Nice place.” Jake observed, staring up at the sky and the seemingly impossible number of stars overhead. The drizzle and rain of earlier that day had dissolved around two pm, and the evening had been humid and sunny, but the night couldn’t have been any clearer and the full moon far over to their left was illuminating everything so brightly it looked like the earth they were walking on was made of silver. Dirk hummed, and Jakes heart did a funny thing when he reached up and pushed his sunshades up, onto his head.

“I used to come here when I was younger and draw.”

“You draw?”

Dirk didn’t answer.

They drew close to the river soon enough, and Jake never even saw it coming because it was about six feet lower down than the ground level of the field they had just crossed. As such, he might just have walked over the bank and fallen into the pebbly water edge if he wasn’t looking down at his feet. Dirk laughed a humourless laugh at his surprise, and with a certain amount of grace Jake had not he leapt daintily onto one of the large rocks a few inches below the rim of soil and grass they were perched upon. The pile of boulders around it made a convenient means to get down by the rivers edge.

“… How am I supposed to get down here?” Jake inquired, wobbling concerning when he tried to follow in Dirks dainty footsteps. Dirk shrugged and held up his arms to take the wine bottle and box of cider from him. Just in case he had a fall and the fragile glass smashed all over the shore.

“Close your eyes and don’t break anything.” Dirk told him, sitting easily down on a nearby rock. Jake huffed, and after a very awkward descent he found himself several feet below field level, his old blazer slightly damp with sweat under the arms and absolutely covered with dust. The latter was quite obvious in the moonlight.

“Don’t worry about it.” Dirk told him, opening the screw top lid on one of the bottles of cider and offering it to him. “Come sit by me some.”

Jake almost lost his footing on the pebbles when Dirk looked at him directly, and Jake realised he was seeing the mans eyes for the first time. Albeit they were somewhat dimmed by the night time lighting. He felt the hair on the nape of his neck prickle when he took the bottle, because by gum, Dirk looked so _different_ without his glasses on. Almost like a stranger, or wait, maybe not. As Jake sat down next to him, making a very conscious effort not to stare, he became quite convinced that he _recognised him from somewhere_. Those thoughts about every blonde person in Saint Lukes looking similar came to the surface of his mind, but no. It was more than that. Seriously. It was such an intense feeling of recognition Jake absolutely couldn’t sit still! But no matter how many times he glanced at Dirk’s profile discretely, he just couldn’t place it. At all. It was uncanny, and made a distinct feeling of nervousness rise in the back of his throat.

It was positively killing him.

They sat in silence for a while, and Dirk downed two bottles of cider easily, before Jake had even finished half of his own. Although he very dearly wanted to open his mouth and say _‘where have I seen your face before_ ’, Jake remained silent until he found himself thinking on the last time Dirk had drunk anything, and this brought a wry smile to the corners of his lips.

“I would have thought, mister Strider, that having been so deeply in your cups this past weekend, you might have taken a little more time to recover before getting bladdered again.”

“And I’d have thought, Mister English, that having only successfully made it through half a bottle of two percent you might have the sense to hold your tongue and not hold my alcoholic frivolities against me. Pass me that bottle of wine.”

He gestured to  the bottle next to Jakes foot, and when Jake passed it to him he risked a swift and piercing glance at Dirks face, and even though Jake knew he wasn’t wearing shades he was none the less astonished to see his eyes. His actual real person _eyes_. And Jake realised that he had been at risk of assuming that Dirk did not, in fact have any eyes at all.

And he was lucky, the eyes he did have were beautiful. Not that Jake would ever say that out loud.

“Jeepers creepers Dirk. I don’t suppose you would mind telling me, where from those peepers you acquired?”

Dirk paused his gulping of the wine bottle (thank god it had been a screw top and not a corked bottle) to give Jake a look which said ‘I can’t believe that was seriously a thing you just said’. When he brought the bottle back down, Jake could see he had sculled at least a quarter, and he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand before saying

“My father?”

And then he lifted the bottle to his lips once more.

By this point, Jake was of course quite flustered.

“No, I mean, I’ve never seen your whole face before, and yet… you look so familiar I could almost shout the name to the high heavens! You look like someone I’ve seen elsewhere, and I’m sorry for staring but truly I can’t put my finger on it.”

This made Dirk laugh proper, and he choked on the wine so Jake had to thump him on the back while he coughed it up – a process which may have been easier if he hadn’t still been sniggering obnoxiously like a child.

“I don’t appreciate your laughing at me.” Jake told him, his cheeks colouring.

“I can’t believe you English. Sometimes, I can hardly believe you’re real.” Dirk sniffed and wiped the wetness of mirth from the rims of his eyes. “Were you ever tested as a child? Your IQ I mean?”

“Of course? What does this have to do with anything?”

Dirk shook his head and hid his smile behind his hand. Jake realised that half a bottle of wine and two ciders in fifteen minutes was probably enough to make someone as trim as Dirk quite drunk quite quickly.

“I got my eyes from my father.” He said loudly, not slurring at all except for a little on the end of the word ‘eyes’,” and he got them from _his_ father. Where did you get _your_ eyes from? You know you really lucked out on the old genetics my man. The god of looks and stupidity has really shined his rays upon you. Congratu-fucking-lations.”

He went to reach for the wine again, but Jake held it out of the way.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He said primly, and Dirk groaned.

Jake returned his attention to nursing his bottle of cider.

 

…

 

Jake wasn’t sure how long they were out there for.

Dirk didn’t say much else for some time, but he did finish the wine and another two ciders while Jakes imagination was elsewhere, and Jake would have liked to say that his thoughts weren’t all wrapped up in a fantasy about long legs and pretty lips and peachy coloured corsets but they were, and maybe it was the alcohol or maybe he was just being some kind of a creep but for some reason Dirk’s face kept merging with his memory of Dixie’s face in his mind. He made a mental not to himself to _not_ think about that again, and tried to concentrate on watching the glittering river water rush by him instead.

Dirk pulled him from his thoughts by tugging on his blazer sleeve and asking if he was going to finish his cider.

“Sorry I’ve been such a dick today.” He said as thanks, when Jake handed him the last few inches of his drink. His voice was kind of thick but his mood was more sombre than it had been earlier. Jake shrugged and said it was quite alright, he had his own thoughts and concerns to deal with anyway. He closed his eyes and clenched his fists in frustration when he tried to visualise Dixie’s face, and Dirk’s appeared out of nowhere. It was unwelcome.

“No, it’s not alright. I over reacted when Rose said that stuff, and she’s not even lying. That’s the worst thing.” He downed Jakes drink remnants and tossed the bottle carelessly against the pebbles around their feet. It smashed, and Jake inhaled sharply. He became very acutely aware of Dirk’s hand curling tentatively around his wrist. “You may have noticed, but probably not because you’re actually kind of slow, that I have some problems when it comes to… you know. Human relationships.”

Jake frowned and glanced sideways at him, and he was uncomfortable to observe that his company was staring right at his face, and Jake felt an awful lot like Dirk was far to drunk to be having this conversation tonight, or any other night entirely.

“Well, Dirk, I hardly think that this is something-“

“Sh!” Dirk cut him off, pressing a hand messily over his mouth and catching Jake off guard because if he had been a little more on it, Jake liked to think he would have pushed him away. “It’s okay. Listen. I like you English. I really, _really_ like you. And I don’t even know why because you’re a fucking dork But hey, that’s cool. I’m a cool guy and I have my shit one hundred percent together. Okay?”

Jake thought he didn’t have any other choice but to nod. Which he did, and Dirk nodded back at him. Jake hated how he was seeing everything, unguarded and hazy in those big dark eyes. He wondered very briefly what colour they might be. Blue maybe? He regretted that he couldn’t see in this lighting.

“Good. Now, I know you’re probably all thinking like ‘Dirk, hey, its cool. Just because Dave is a piece of shit who left his kid and bigass manor house in the hands of his dopey best friend just so two weeks later he could be shit king of turd mountain in Hollywood doesn’t mean _you’re_ a flaky piece of crap too. But you know what English? I am. It’s in my blood. I can’t do anything about it and I’m _sorry_. I’m sorry. Okay?”

He moved his hand from Jake’s mouth and used it to cup his chin and the side of his face. No one had touched Jake like this since he as very young, and he nearly pulled back because some part of him felt like the contact was indecent. However, he found when he tried, that He couldn’t. Dirk was staring into him and holding him there and it was making Jake’s palms all sweaty and his heart race a mile a minute. He could actually feel his heart breaking when Dirk repeated it.

“I’m sorry, Jake. I truly am.”

And Jake didn’t know what he was sorry for but he forgave him, and when Dirk turned his face downwards and sniffed loudly he realised there was only one correct course of action right now in case the boy in front of him started crying.

He seized Dirk’s wrist and pulled him against his chest into a bracing hug, and relieved and grateful Dirk clung to him like he was the last stable thing in a chaotic, unfair earth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> add me on snapchat if you want to receive lots of pictures of my chins. 
> 
> crennymctucker


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